


Don't Lose Your Head

by somedayoneday



Series: Don't Lose Your Head 'verse [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Arguing, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Sexual Situations, Brian is a caring friend, Casual Sex (mentioned), Coming Untouched, Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deacy amp, Drabble Collection, Drug Use, First Time, Fluff, Freddie is a good and supportive friend, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, Light Angst, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Making Out, Miscommunication, Mixed POV, Not Famous Yet, Oral Sex, Public snogging - a british tradition, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sappy Ending, Self-Esteem Issues, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Spooning, Teasing, University, Unrequited Crush, all explicit content will be signposted in chapter notes, but John is 18 when the band forms, if you want to skip all that stuff, so this can be read as a mature fic, the same age difference as they really have
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-09-17 14:50:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 31,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16976619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somedayoneday/pseuds/somedayoneday
Summary: Brian brings John back to meet his house/bandmates. In hindsight, perhaps it would have been a good idea to have John change out of his school uniform beforehand.[[A series of scenes from the same 'verse, in which John is a sixth former when Queen is first formed, and Roger is absolutely not jealous of their new bass player. Breaky and one-sided Maylor. Each chapter is individually rated, most fall into M or T.]]





	1. Awkward Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by that classic feeling of loving a pairing but finding barely any fic centred around it.
> 
> This is ambiguously set in the early 70s - and that's the look I'm imagining for the boys - but I expect it to be peppered with historical inaccuracies as I don't know a great deal about the 70s. 
> 
> Also of note is that, while John isn't actually underage, he is still in school and it is implied that he's in a romantic relationship with Brian, who is in his early 20s. Please don't read if this makes you uncomfortable.
> 
> I've put definitions of British terms in the end notes. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T

“Wait. No, no, seriously, hold on for a second because I’m still wrapping my head around the first part,” Roger cut through the noise of Brian’s rambling explanation – which had clearly been at least partly rehearsed. It took Brian a few more seconds to putter to a stop, his brain catching up with his mouth which twisted into a vaguely uncomfortable grimace.

“What is it you’re not getting, Rog?” he said, the tone of his voice betraying the fact that he was absolutely aware that this situation was abnormal.

‘This situation’ namely being the presence of Brian’s new _friend_ , sat awkwardly on their blanket-strewn sofa and – rather damningly – dressed in neatly pressed grey trousers, a scratchy-looking white shirt, and a jacket emblazoned with the logo of ‘Saint George’s Secondary School for Boys’.

Roger gave a pointed look.

“He’s in the sixth form…” Brian responded defensively after a pause, a little weakly. The boy – who Brian had introduced as John at the start of his speech – didn’t seem eager to jump to his own defence.

“Oh, good. So, you made sure he had a few O-levels under his belt before you got into his trousers,” Roger scoffed, which prompted a mortified look from John and a spluttering sound from Brian.

“That’s not – Alright, first of all, John’s eighteen. Second of all, we’re not… There’s nothing like that going on,” Brian snapped, somehow prudish as ever with his language, even through the anger clearly shining in his eyes.

Freddie, finally choosing to waltz back over from the adjoining kitchen, interjected. “You mean to tell me that he’s not the ‘brilliant guy’ you’ve been talking about the past few weeks then, dear? How disappointing,” he teased, setting a cup of tea in front of John and winking at him, “Perhaps I’ll snap him up, then. After he’s got his A-levels, mind; I’m not such a perv as you, Bri.”

Roger didn’t miss the way John’s eyes flicked to Brian at the ‘brilliant’ comment. There was definitely something up.

Freddie wasn’t exaggerating, for once, Brian really had been going on and on about a bloke he’d met, and it was blatant now that John was that bloke. Roger knew all the details because he’d heard them five or six times: they’d met at an open lecture Brian ran on the applications of differential equations, then Brian had taken him out for drinks on three separate occasions. Roger had found it a little suspicious that Brian always returned from these dates so early, but it suddenly made sense, since his date probably had a bloody curfew.

Roger had to admit that his cold greeting did stem a little from jealousy. He and Brian had messed about on more than one occasion, and while Roger liked to maintain the freedom to still go out with girls from his college, he suddenly found he wasn’t pleased with Brian doing the same. Sure, he never felt that same spark of jealousy with Freddie – and he and Freddie had probably shagged more than he and Brian – but Roger put that down to the fact that Freddie simply couldn’t be expected to follow normal rules, not like-

“I play bass.”

The soft-edged, but clear voice came as a surprise to even Brian, by the looks of it, as John finally opened his mouth and yanked Roger out of his train of thought.

“That’s why Brian said he wanted me to come over here. Because you need a bass player, and I’m – well – I think I’m okay at it,” John continued, still looking more at Brian than the other two, who he was ostensibly addressing. The tone of his voice gave away that he was just desperate to get the conversation back into more  _decent_ territory. 

There was a beat of silence. Then another, before Freddie jumped up in his seat, clapping his hands together.

“Oh! Brian, you’re so daft sometimes, you should’ve said that from the start!” he exclaimed, “Of course, we can pencil in an audition for John, here, can’t we?”

Brian was muttering a little under his breath – Roger just about caught something along the lines of ‘I _did_ say, you just didn’t listen’ – and Roger himself still wasn’t too pleased. It wasn’t exactly very rock n’ roll to have somebody in the band who couldn’t stay out past ten on school nights.

But Freddie had already taken it upon himself to decide John was getting an audition, and Roger knew better than to argue with a plan Freddie had set his heart on.

Besides, he thought to himself, this little problem could just sort itself out now. After all, what were the chances John’s audition would actually be good enough for him to join the band?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave kudos and/or comment if you enjoyed, I'm pretty new to the fandom and would love to chat.
> 
> Here are the definitions for some British terms:  
> \- "Secondary school" - a school you attend from ages 11-16, or 11-18, depending  
> \- "Sixth form" - the part of a secondary school specifically for 16-18 year olds, who student A-levels  
> \- "O-Levels" - The qualifications students (used to) get at 16. Replaced by GCSEs. Some people leave school after getting these  
> \- "A-Levels" - The qualifications students get at 18, after two years of study. Most students do A-levels in just 3-4 subjects. They are an optional stage of education.


	2. The Audition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John auditions for the band. Roger is a grouch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated M

“It’s five o’clock, couldn’t he have changed out of the uniform?” Roger groused as he watched John at the front of the small lecture theatre, seemingly lost in his own little world as he wired up the amp.

“He has after-school clubs” Brian muttered, cutting off Roger’s perfectly planned comeback by calling forward, “You okay up there, John? Ready to play?”

John jumped a little, startled, but quickly responded with a thumbs up. “All good. Is Freddie..?”

As if he’d been waiting to hear his name, Freddie burst through the double doors at the back of the lecture theatre.

“ _So_ sorry to keep you waiting, darlings. Roger, if looks could kill, honestly. Let’s try to put on a friendly face for John’s sake, shall we?” he said, taking his seat beside Roger with a flourish of the garish scarf slung over his shoulder.

John, who had stepped away from the amp and was now stood ready to play, didn’t seem particularly relaxed by Freddie’s easy-going manner. In fact, the only way to describe his current demeanour would be _intense._ Roger couldn’t see much of his face – as it was tipped down and half shrouded by hair - but what he did see of John’s expression was serious, and focused.

“Okay, John, you can go ahead now, we’re all ears,” Brian called, obviously trying to sound supportive. 

“Yes, play something interesting!” Freddie chimed in.

And that was all the prompting John needed.

…Of course, he was bloody good. Roger should have been happy. They’d been looking for a good bassist – one who wasn’t too loud and wasn’t too sloppy – for ages, and John was exactly that. His fingers moved with confident precision, his head nodded along to a silent beat that didn’t creep up in speed or slow down as he went on, and he didn’t get into any unnecessary showboating. He was just _good_ at what he did. It was infuriating. 

Roger glanced over to see Brian and Freddie beaming, and knew he was doomed. He was going to be in a band with a sixth former… A sixth former who had seduced Roger’s favourite casual shag. What was the world coming to?

\----

After John had been unanimously accepted as Queen’s new bass player, celebratory drinks had been inevitable. They couldn’t go to the pub, because of course John – in his uniform still – would get ID’d, and he’d forgotten his provisional licence at home, so they ended up back at the house, crowded onto the sofa. To his credit, John had chipped in most of the cash for beer, while the three other band members were feeling the pinch of student living.

“Are you listening, Rog? John here’s an electrician! Who even needs roadies?” Freddie’s voice came out uncomfortably close to Roger’s ear, his breath giving away just how much he’d had to drink. In fairness, all of them were rather red-cheeked by this point.

“Not- You’re being too generous, I just said it’s what I’d like to study at uni,” John quickly corrected. He was a lot more talkative now – whether it was the alcohol, or the apparent acceptance of Brian’s friends, Roger wasn’t sure.

“You underestimate how much these two are lacking in that skillset,” Brian cut in, laughing and reaching over John and Freddie to jab Roger in the shoulder, “Wasn’t it just last month you had me changing your lightbulb for you?”

“That was a height issue, I’m not totally useless,” Roger grumbled. In all honestly, it had been more of a ‘wanting an excuse to get Brian alone in his room’ issue, and it had worked very nicely.

Brian gave him a knowing look, and Roger felt a pang of want drive through him, a pang that was only worsened when John suddenly caught Brian’s attention again, and gestured to his watch. After a quick conversation that Roger wasn’t close enough to hear over Freddie – who had started on some anecdote about an electrician he’d known in first year – Brian and John were standing up.

“I’m just gonna walk this one home, but I’ll be back in about an hour. Feel free to carry on without me,” Brian announced, grabbing John’s coat for him, which just made that pang of desire rush through Roger again. Where did Brian get off being so considerate?

“Thanks for having me round. I’m looking forward to Saturday’s rehearsal,” John added quickly, giving a little wave once he had his coat on. Freddie returned it, and elbowed Roger until he did the same, before Brian and John headed out of the small living room.

Roger didn’t even realise that he hadn’t spoken in nearly a minute until Freddie cleared his throat.

“So… Would you like to talk about your obvious case of the green-eyed monster? Or shall I distract you with something more immediately gratifying than staring longingly at the ground Brian’s walked on?” he asked, with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows, already moving to climb onto Roger’s lap.

Roger was about to agree with feigned reluctance when evidently the change in position made something catch Freddie’s eye.

“Oh. Bri’s left his keys. He won’t be able to get back in."

Roger shrugged. “So? We’ll let him in."

“Yes. In an hour, when we’re both well-fucked and passed out drunk, I’m sure we’ll be in a fine mood for getting out of bed and letting Brian in,” Freddie retorted, smirking as he grabbed the keys and dumped them on Roger’s lap, “Go on, you can still catch up with him, I’ll wait here alluringly.”

Roger was tempted to protest, but honestly, he knew he was just as likely as Freddie to be too conked out after a few beers and a good shag to even hear Brian knocking on the door, and it _was_ particularly cold out. So, with a grumble, he grabbed the keys, gesturing rudely at Freddie – who simply laughed – as he strode out of the room to catch up with Brian.

As it turned out, he didn’t have to go far.

He turned the corner at the end of the street and there they were, nearly blending into the brick wall that they were pressed up again, lips joined in a slow kiss. Their faces were barely visible in the low light of evening, but Roger could clearly make out Brian’s hand where it rested at John’s hip, thumb making little circles. It was a familiar gesture, one Roger had been on the receiving end of more than a few times, and it seemed it was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Rearing his arm back, Roger tossed the keys at the pair. He waited just long enough to watch smugly as they jumped apart in surprise, before turning the corner and making his way back to the house. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I won't always be this quick to update (and Roger won't always be this bitchy), but I just couldn't get this out of my head! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated as always, and thank you also to everybody who took the time to bookmark and subscribe :)


	3. A Friendly Chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Rog need to have a talk about the events of the previous night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit more of a maylor-y chapter, John is mentioned heavily but makes no cameo. Rated M, to be safe

Roger groaned loudly as light abruptly flooded the pleasant, sleepy space he was in, dragging him away from his dreamy reflection on how much better it felt to sleep in the nude, next to another warm body. Speaking of warm bodies, he blinked his eyes open to see Freddie rolling out of bed with a slight scowl, though the conversation he was engaged in still sounded hazy to Roger’s ears.

“I take it I’m not the reason you look pissed? Mm, good. Well, dear, have fun scolding him, I’m going back to sleep,” was approximately what Roger heard, as he watched Freddie tug on a dressing gown then waltz out of the bedroom.

Somebody else was speaking.

It was possibly the very tall, curly-haired presence at the end of his bed that Roger was wilfully ignoring. In fact, it definitely was.

“Rog, I can see you’re awake, don’t make me get a glass of cold water,” were the words that finally broke through in Brian’s serious voice, and Roger groaned again, rolling over onto his front and burying his face in the pillow to avoid the harsh light that had so suddenly been introduced into his morning.

“What do you want?” he asked, the words slurred together into something barely recognisable.

“We need to talk,” Brian replied. After a few moments where it became clear Roger had no intention to reply, he continued. “It’s about John. About what happened last night but also just in general. I – look, would you turn around and put some trousers on? This is ridiculous.” Another pause. “Rog, please.”

Roger sighed, but finally gave in, rolling over and reaching half-blindly for the trousers he’d been wearing last night. Brian had the courtesy to look away as he wiggled into them, which was entirely unnecessary, as they’d both seen eachother naked more than a few times. That’s just how Brian was, though.

Apparently hearing that Roger had slumped back down – propped up on a few pillows so he could face Brian – the older man turned back around, looking just as unwilling to have this conversation as Roger felt.

“So, the thing is… I’ve noticed a bit of tension with you. Ever since I brought John back here, actually. And I thought at first you were just in a generally bad mood, but then there was last night-“

Roger cut him off. “What about last night?”

Brian just raised an eyebrow. “You threw keys at me? Look, obviously you were annoyed, or you would’ve said something.”

“Could’ve been Freddie.”

“Freddie would’ve said something.”

“Okay. So what? It was me. Sorry if I hurt you.”

With a sigh, Brian rubbed the back of his neck, looking hesitant before finally saying. “Is it the age thing? Because look, Rog, I get it. Honestly, I really do. But when you really look at it, he’s only a little bit younger than you, and he’ll be at university this time next year.”

Roger just stared at the bedsheets, giving an occasional nod but otherwise acting rather like a moody teenager being told off.

“Besides,” Brian continued, cheeks colouring just a little, catching Roger’s attention, “Not that it’s any of your business, but we honestly haven’t done anything yet. Nothing more than what you saw last night.”

To be honest, that did cheer Roger up a little, to know Brian and John weren’t too serious yet. That John didn’t even come _close_ to knowing Brian like he did.

“Rog?”

Roger cast his gaze back up to Brian, who looked endearingly nervous to see his reaction. With a sigh, he gestured between them with one hand.

“What about… you know, _us_?”

Looking confused, Brian was quick to reply, “We’d still be friends, that doesn’t change.” Roger groaned in frustration.

“No, I mean… God, Bri, you’re thick-headed sometimes. I mean the sex. Is that off the table now, or…?” he finally said, rather bluntly. Brian’s eyebrows shot up.

“Oh. Er, well… Yeah. I hadn’t really… But yeah, I guess it is. That’s not an issue though, is it? You’ve still got Freddie, and those girls off your course, and the people at gigs.”

Roger gave a slight shrug and then, seeing that Brian wasn’t satisfied with that as a response, a mumbled, “Yeah, ‘course. I was just wondering.”

“So, we’re good?” Brian asked, and he looked so goddamn hopeful that Roger really couldn’t do anything but nod, and smile.

“Yeah, we’re good. Sorry I got you all wound up.”

Brian smiled back. It was a beautiful sight, one that almost made the lying worth it. “It’s in the past, Rog, don’t worry about it,” he said, giving Roger a firm pat on the shoulder before heading out of the bedroom.

Roger just rolled back over, burying his face in the pillow again and trying to return to the land of slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I've really appreciated all the kudos and comments on the previous two chapters <3
> 
> Also, if you have any ideas of stuff you'd like to see in future chapters, please feel free to mention in the comments :)


	4. Take Me Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian escorting John home, from John's PoV. Rated T.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of contrast to the maylor-y chapter, here's a good ol' chunk of breaky!
> 
> CW: brief implication of homophobia

Brian was a good kisser.

That was the thought at the front of John’s mind as he tightened his grip on the front of Brian’s coat, pushing away from the cold brick wall he was being rather artfully pressed against, and closer to the man in front of him.

Brian was a good kisser not just because of what he did with his lips, which was delightful, but because of everything else too. The way he slotted his body against John’s so perfectly, the way his left hand gripped John’s hip, thumb stroking tight circles where John’s shirt was tucked in and making him wish the shirt wasn’t in the way at all. John had admittedly little experience with kissing, and no experience to speak of when it came to men, but he thought it was all-in-all a pretty impressive first kiss.

What a shame, then, that is was ended so abruptly by the sudden jangling sound of keys hitting the pavement by their feet, on what both of them had thought was a reliably empty street.

John was immediately hit with a wave of regret. What had he been thinking? Making out with somebody out in public was bad enough, but another man? They were lucky it had only been keys thrown at them. Or perhaps that wasn’t all, perhaps it had only been the warning shot and-

“John?” Brian’s voice cut him out of his train of thought, “It was just Roger. Must’ve realised I forgot my keys,” he explained, with a joviality that John immediately pegged as forced.

“Oh. Well, that’s fine. He won’t be upset by…?” John trailed off, gesturing between them. It was a purely pragmatic question, but his cheeks still coloured at the memory.

“No, no. Roger and Freddie aren’t uncomfortable with homosexuality. Trust me,” Brian replied with a chuckle, which hadn’t been exactly what John had been getting at, but he didn’t want to press. Honestly, he already felt like he was stirring up tensions between Brian and his bandmates, and the last thing John wanted was to be at the centre of a row.

There was a moment’s pause, then Brian reached for John’s hand. “Shall we?” he asked, and John nodded, letting himself be guided in the direction of the underground station.

It was only once they were on the tube that John got up the courage to continue the conversation.

“I think… I think maybe Roger’s uncomfortable with me, you know,” he commented quietly, conscious that there were a few other strangers in the carriage with them.

Brian’s face told him that the concern wasn’t exclusive to John.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him, honestly,” Brian sighed, “Honestly, he’s usually great with new people. Really friendly guy, Rog is.”

“Just, practically speaking, I don’t know if it’s a good idea to join a band where one member already seems to really not like me…” John replied, a little nervous. He wanted to be in Queen, and he knew Brian wanted him there, and he was growing increasingly confident in the idea that Freddie wanted him there, after the series of laviscious compliments the lead singer had doled out over drinks. But that didn’t change the fact that Roger, through words and actions, was making it quite clear he _didn’t_ want John there.

“I’ll speak to him,” Brian said decisively, “Honestly, don’t let him scare you off, John. You did great today. We need you.” Then, leaning in, with his voice dropped lower, he added: “And I really, _really_ want to keep you around.”

John felt his cheeks flush, and he told himself it was the leftover buzz from the alcohol, turning to bury his face into Brian’s shoulder.

“I’ll speak to Rog,” Brian repeated, “You just worry about playing the music, okay?”

“Yeah,” John murmured, smiling a little and deciding to be cheeky, “Are you going to kiss me again when we get to my stop?”

“As if you have to ask,” Brian chuckled, arm wrapping itself around John, where it stayed for the remainder of the journey.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated, as always <3


	5. Rehearsal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The band's first rehearsal as a fully formed group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed the rating has changed to explicit. 
> 
> I will be signposting any explicit content in chapter notes, so it can be skipped by those who are uninterested. So, for this chapter, the explicit content is limited to the part in italics at the very beginning.

_“Fuck, Bri,” Roger keened, to no apparent avail as Brian continued to be coy, pressing kisses along the inside of Roger’s bared thigh. The only indication he gave at all of hearing the words was a punishing little nip of his teeth, which was quickly soothed over by his tongue._

_“You’re killing me. Honestly, no, I see you laughing, you’re killing me,” Roger whined, voice pitched up and raspy, “Would you just – God – if you’re going to put your mouth on my cock would you just get on and do it?”_

_Brian, who had the patience of a saint, faked a look of confusion from his spot between Roger’s legs, which Roger was on the verge of complaining about when Brian’s tongue finally did something useful and dragged up the length of his cock._

_The broken moan that Roger let out just from that one touch wasn’t one he was proud of, but Brian certainly looked like he was. He was laughing again, and he had this look of fondness in his eyes that made Roger look away._

_That was the thing about Brian. Sex wasn’t frantic and mindless like it was with most of Roger’s hook-ups. It was slow, and playful, and affectionate, and, when it came down to it, sex with Brian was a lot closer to “making love” than Roger had had with anybody past romantic partners._

_Another kiss, right at the base of Roger’s criminally-neglected erection, brought him back into the moment and he gasped out Brian’s name, hitching his left leg up even higher and whining unabashedly when Brian took the invitation and-_

“Roger, darling, I’m going to need you to get your arse up and come play some drums.”

Roger frowned. That voice belonged to Freddie, and most certainly didn’t belong in the delightful memory he’d been replaying in his head.

“Also, no offence, but you might want to readjust your trousers, or you’re going to scare Deacy off,” Freddie continued, hand on hip as he eyed the front of Roger’s trousers.

With a groan, Roger grabbed a pillow, ready to throw it at Freddie before his brain caught up with what had been said and he set the pillow down. “What the hell’s a Deacy?” he asked instead.

Freddie grinned, a twinkle in his eye.

“Why, John, of course! John Deacon? While you were out here slobbering over God knows what, _I_ was teaching our newest member the songs and getting to know him. And it turns out, the nickname he’s picked up at school is _Deacy._ I think it’s just marvellous,” Freddie announced, with more enthusiasm than anybody ought to have over a nickname, in John’s opinion, “Anyway, Deacy reckons he’s up to speed on the basics, so we’re going to do some proper playing, which we need you – our beloved drummer – for.”

Roger just rolled his eyes as he got up to his feet, any sign of his former arousal gone by now, and walked past Freddie into their rehearsal space.

Of course, it was just his luck that the first sight to greet him was the new couple, John’s head tipped forward as he laughed at some private joke Brian had shared with him. Brian had those fond eyes of his as he looked down at John, who – for once – wasn’t in the damned uniform.

In a shiny black jacket, and slim-cut trousers, Roger could admit that John cut a pretty attractive figure. He could see the appeal, when the constant reminder that John was still a school boy wasn’t plastered across his breast pocket, but Roger decidedly did _not_ want to dwell on the attractiveness of his bandmates. That had only led to bad things so far.

“Hello, Roger, good to see you,” John greeted, oblivious to the thoughts swirling through the drummer’s head. Roger lifted his hand in a half-hearted wave, scuffing his shoes along the floor as he made his way back to the drum kit.

It was going to be a long rehearsal.

\------

“I think that’s enough for today, boys,” Freddie declared, shaking out his hair and flashing a smile at the three of them. “But it was good, don’t you think? We’re in a good place.”

Roger gave a general noise of agreement, tugging open the top few buttons of his shirt. It was frigid outside, but their rehearsal space tended to be rather muggy.

“Well, Bri, you come with me and we’ll pick up something to eat. Rog and Deacy can clear up here,” Freddie announced, a decision which quickly drew out sounds of protest from both Roger and Brian.

“Why can’t I come get food?” “Isn’t it better if I stay here with John?” both came out simultaneously, and Freddie just shook his head.

“No, no, no. If Brian and John are both here alone, who knows what they’ll get up to? And Roger’s a pain to shop with,” Freddie insisted, adding with a sly smile, “Besides, don’t be under the impression that I haven’t noticed that _you two-_ “ he gestured between John and Roger, “Have barely said two words to each other yet. Now play nice, and meet us back at the house when you’re done.”

There weren’t many more words said after that before Freddie and Brian were heading out, Brian with an apologetic smile and a wave. Then, silence.

John jumped to work straight away, looking far more comfortable with dismantling their acoustic set-up than chatting to Roger. Unfortunately for him, Roger was a social creature, and hence unable to keep his mouth shut for more than five minutes.

“So.. you and Bri?” Roger said, at last.

John looked up at him jerkily, and Roger could practically see the panic of ‘How the hell do I respond to that conversation starter?’ flash across his face. Roger felt bad enough to push on with a proper question.

“What made you stick with him? Because I know it can’t have been whatever lecture he was giving about physics.”

“It was about maths,” John corrected, quietly, “I suppose he’s just nice. We have a lot to talk about, with the music and academic interests… And it was an interesting lecture.”

“What do your friends think of him?”

That seemed to be another question that threw John, and he hesitated for a moment before replying. “I haven’t told anybody at school. Or at home. I mentioned the band to my parents, but they think it’s a school band.”

Roger didn’t quite know how to respond to the revelation that he was playing some part in what essentially sounded like a ‘secret double life’ for John. Fortunately, he didn’t have to, as John continued.

“Brian actually thinks I’ve spoken to my parents about it,” he blurted out, “So – er – don’t mention to him that I haven’t? Please.”

Roger chuckled at that. John had hidden depths, who knew? Roger actually quite liked that. He was of the opinion that a little ‘bad boy’ spirit was needed to be a rock star.

“I’ll keep mum,” he assured the younger man, “Anyway, we should make tracks, I think we’re done here, and I’m starving.”

The way John smiled at that was far too endearing. Roger was starting to understand why Brian had been so quickly taken with him, and he wished he didn’t.

Life was complicated enough already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to any Deaky fans, but when it comes to writing, I just prefer sticking to Deacy.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are, as always, greatly appreciated.


	6. Staying the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian thinks its time to take John home. John has other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a PoV shift mid-chapter, marked with some hyphens, hopefully it's not too jarring!
> 
> Rating for this chapter is a T.

“Isn’t it about time I got you home?” Brian’s voice was lowered, intended for only John to hear, but Roger could just about make it out where he was slouched, head lolled against Brian’s shoulder.

The whole band were together on the messy sofa, more than a few beer cans strewn about from their post-post-gig-party. It had been their first public performance with John, and they had _nailed_ it, in Roger’s humble opinion. John, for all the trouble his introduction had caused, really did tie the group together quite nicely. 

“Wait, you told them what?” Brian’s voice again, evidently John’s response had been too quiet for Roger to pick up. But the agitated question from Brian had intrigued him, so he subtly shuffled closer, and perked his ears up.

“I told them I was staying at a friends house… Which is true, really, if I stay here the night,” John was saying. The past couple of hours, he’d been pretty relaxed – likely thanks to the alcohol – but now his voice was starting to regain the nervous tone Roger was used to.

“Did you say it was me?” Brian asked. The silence that followed was all the answer anybody needed. “Right. I’m taking you home. We can talk about this on the way there.”

“No!” John’s voice genuinely did sound quite panicked, “It wasn’t exactly a lie. They didn’t ask whose house it was.”

“But you let them assume it was somebody your own age.”

There was another heavy pause. Roger – who was getting quite absorbed in the conversation – held his breath.

“There’s no harm if they don’t find out,” John started, “But if you take me back now, we’ll be waking them up in the middle of the night, and also they’d find out I haven’t been entirely honest. I just don’t see the need to upset them.”

Roger felt Brian shift, and he cracked open an eye to watch what was going on. All he could really see from this position, though, was the fact that Freddie was also watching the lover’s quarrel play out, looking similarly intrigued.

“ _Please_ , Brian.”

That was John’s voice, and it seemed to change whatever Brian had been on the verge of saying, because the older man let out a heavy sigh.

“Fine. Fine, you can stay. But really, you should’ve asked earlier,” he conceded, not sounding at all happy with the situation.

“Deacy, you little minx,” Freddie chimed in, voice thick and sleepy, “You’ve got him wrapped ‘round your finger.”

Brian groused at that, and quickly added: “But I’m sleeping in Roger’s room. There's won't be any… funny business, or whatever.”

“Oh, yeah, do just invite yourself in,” Roger murmured in a slurred voice, smirking just a little, “You’re such a prude. Better get used to that from him, Deacs,”

He didn’t need to look to know that John was blushing.

After a few more moments of vaguely awkward quiet, they all came to the collective conclusion that now was a good time to go to bed, as nobody was willing to make the effort to recover whatever conversation had been going on before Brian and John’s ‘fight’. Freddie on his way out pressed a kiss to John’s cheek, whispered something in his ear which made the younger man smile (the first time he’d done so in about fifteen minutes), and directed a wink at a confused-looking Brian. Roger simply trailed off to his own bedroom, knowing he’d be seeing Brian again in a bit anyway.

Honestly, it was just his luck. The last person who he needed to be sharing a bed with right now, and the person he most _wanted_ to be sharing a bed with. He was a bloody saint.

He decided, as he burrowed under the covers of his bed and waited for Brian to join him, that the guitarist owed him a beer.

\---------------------

Brian paced outside the door of his bedroom, absorbed in his own thoughts and the muffled shuffling sounds of John, getting ready for bed. He _had_ intended to go straight to Roger’s room after grabbing John something to sleep in.. But only a few moments after leaving the younger man alone, he’d decided he couldn’t cope with stewing all night. He needed to talk about this _now_ , preferably without the prying eyes of their bandmates to put him off.

Abruptly, Brian stopped his pacing, and put his ear to the door. The distinct lack of sound from inside suggested that John was probably done changing, so he gave a warning rap of his knuckles against the cheap wood, before opening it.

John was sat on the edge of Brian’s bed, diligently buttoning up the shirt Brian had loaned him to sleep in. The shirt was baggy even on Brian, so John had had to roll the sleeves up several times just to keep his hands free. He looked warm in it, at least.

After a few seconds where John kept his gaze on the floor, it flicked up to Brian, then guiltily back to the worn carpet. “I thought you were sleeping in Roger’s room,” John said at last.

“I am,” Brian started, swaying in indecision for a moment before striding over to sit next to John on the edge of the bed, “I wanted to settle things with us first, otherwise I won’t sleep well.”

“I’m sorry,” John said quickly, “I didn’t think you would take it so badly, but it was still rude to just expect you would let me stay over.”

It wouldn’t have been an issue, Brian thought to himself, if John were anybody else. But with John, Brian already felt like enough of a creep without having the whole relationship be something illicit, something lied about and done behind peoples’ backs. He’d only offered John to audition for the band in the first place on the condition that John’s parents knew he’d be hanging out with a bunch of university-aged guys. And at the end of every date, Brian took John back home nice and early, and felt a little of his shame ease away with the knowledge that he wasn’t taking advantage. After all, though his private thoughts certainly strayed further, he’d only allowed himself a few slow kisses with John, never anything more.

“I know… I know it’s probably a hard conversation to have. And maybe they’ll say no sometimes,” Brian began, voice taking on a serious, and somewhat beseeching edge, “But you have to tell your parents about this stuff, okay, John? You can stay over whenever you like, I love having you here, but you have to tell your parents you’re staying over with someone who’s a- a little older.”

 John looked pretty miserable at the prospect, probably anticipating being turned down, but Brian pressed on.

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re mature enough. As far as I’m concerned, what we’re doing is all completely above board, but it stops feeling that way if we treat it like it’s some terrible secret,” he explained. “So… You don’t have to tell them about the romantic stuff. I get it, that’s a whole other can of worms. But tell them that I’m at university, and that the rest of the band are too, and that we’re the people you’re hanging out with. Okay?”

Of course, John had already assured Brian that his parents knew the band was comprised of university students, but based on how things were going so far, Brian was beginning to suspect he hadn’t been entirely truthful about that.

There was a heavy pause, in which Brian resisted the urge to distract John with some comforting words, or a gentle touch. He let John sit and think, and finally, the younger man spoke.

“Okay. I’ll tell them tomorrow.” He looked genuinely quite terrified at the prospect, and it tugged at Brian’s heart strings. He could certainly empathise with being scared to disappoint one’s parents.

Tucking a lock of John’s hair behind his ear, Brian leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Thank you. I promise, it’s for the best,” he murmured. John leaned in closer to him, then, and Brian’s arms fell instinctively into place around him.

It was only when John seemed more relaxed and practically asleep, face buried against Brian’s chest, that Brian moved to end the embrace. Carefully, he guided John under the duvet that had been supplemented with five or six blankets, and kissed his cheek again before heading out of the bedroom.

As he climbed into Roger’s bed, the blond seemed to be asleep, but that theory was quickly proven wrong as Roger spoke up.

“You were in there for _ages_. Anything fun happen?”

Brian just scoffed and elbowed him lightly. “Go to sleep, Rog,” he muttered, then, knowing that wouldn’t be enough to shut Roger up, he added, “I’ll tell you about it in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are hugely appreciated, as always, and thanks to all of you who have subscribed!


	7. Familiar Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John seems a little off at one of their gigs. Brian tries to investigate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strays into Mature content at the end, but nothing too extreme.
> 
> This is set perhaps 2-3 weeks after the last chapter.

Their bassist was distracted.

Brian could tell, even as he focused on his own playing. Sure, John wasn’t playing _badly_ , but his usual pinpoint precision was a fraction off, and instead of circling back to Roger to refocus himself on the beat of the song he was anxiously glancing out at the crowd.

Brian couldn’t dwell on it too much, though. This was a good-sized venue, considering how relatively unknown Queen was, and Brian wanted to play here again, which meant he had to focus on playing well. Still, he couldn’t help his eyes wandering back to John every few minutes.

As soon as their set was finished, John practically ran off of the stage, and Brian was set to follow him when Freddie grabbed him by the arm, guiding him over to an older fellow who looked a little out of place in the crowd of young faces.

“Brian, darling, this nice man wants to talk to us about dates for playing here again, but I’m afraid I’m useless at keeping track of the calendar. Won’t you talk to him?” Freddie asked, and Brian pursed his lips. He couldn’t really say no, that would make a bad impression. So with a sigh, he nodded. Before Freddie could go, though, Brian leaned in and said in his ear:

"Could you check on John? He seemed a bit off."

Freddie looked a little surprised for a moment, then understanding washed over his face and he gave Brian a pat on the arm.

“Of course, dear. You two have fun!” he replied, before artfully navigating his way back through the crowd and making his way backstage. 

\---------

After what seemed like a lifetime, Brian’s conversation with the venue manager drew to a close, and he was free to follow Freddie backstage. 

He bumped into Roger first, who seemed oblivious to everything but the lovely young lady he’d coaxed backstage with him, giggling at nothing as she balanced precariously on the drummer’s lap. Brian cleared his throat.

“Sorry to interrupt, Rog, but have you seen John and Freddie?”

Roger was quick to gesture to another door leading off of the room he was in – the space the band had been given to get ready – before turning his attention back to his female companion. Brian mumbled his thanks, before stepping through the door.

The room he entered was quite dim and filled nearly to bursting with clutter: bar stools, unlabelled crates, a sad-looking plastic Christmas tree, and some piles of cinderblocks. Atop one such pile of cinderblocks sat Freddie, lips sealed around a cigarette and eyes fixing in on Brian as he entered. It took Brian a second to notice, but on closer inspection, Freddie looked almost like he was… angry.

Before Brian could open his mouth, the shorter man was speaking.

“He’s off tidying himself up, in the bathrooms.” Another drag of the cigarette. “Do you know what it was that upset him?” He asked the question like he already knew the answer.

Brian shook his head, brow creasing.

“Apparently there were some _boys_ from his school in the audience. Well I said, why would that phase you, darling? Let them see what a wonderful player you are,” Freddie began, standing up and wandering over to Brian. “But of course, that wasn’t all. He says they were _laughing_ , can you imagine? Laughing and pointing. What a bunch of little pricks. He thinks it was the makeup I put around his eyes, and the outfit being so glam, and the shirt cut so low.”

Freddie paused his explanation to scoff and shake his head, butting out his cigarette against the seat of a bar stool.

“Of course, I told him he looked marvellous and he shouldn’t pay any mind to what a bunch of spotty lads think of him, but I don’t think Deacy finds that as easy as I do… So he’s gone to wash his face clean, and I told him you wouldn’t mind him borrowing your coat to cover up.” There was a pause, and when he noticed Brian wasn’t saying anything, Freddie spoke up again: “It’s a good thing you mentioned it to me, Bri, I’m sure he would’ve just bottled it up if somebody hadn’t spoken to him about it.”

“Yeah,” Brian replied, voice terse. He wasn’t angry at Freddie – of course he wasn’t – but he was angry. Angrier than he usually allowed himself to get, and it was a miserable feeling to know there was very little he could do to make it better save storm out there and beat up a bunch of school boys. That was a tempting thought, actually.

“Well, I’m going to head back out, I need a little cheering up,” Freddie decided, heading for the door. Evidently, there was a familiar face on the other side as he opened it. “Oh! John, there you are. I’m just heading out, but Brian’s in here, go on through.”

And just like that, Brian was alone with John, right where he’d been dying to be since halfway through _Keep Yourself Alive_ , when he had first noticed John’s playing was off. Now, in the low light of the storage room and wrapped up in Brian’s coat, John looked captivating. His face had been scrubbed clean of the messy black kohl lining his eyes, and the hair around his forehead was still wet, but it didn’t do anything to downplay how lovely he looked, in Brian’s mind.

“You looked great up there, John,” was the first thing Brian thought to say, and a wavery smile came over John’s face. He looked like he was upset, but couldn’t hold back a little happiness at the compliment.

“Freddie told you then,” John replied, and Brian nodded.

“I was the one who told him to go find you after the show, actually,” he explained, “I would’ve come myself, but I was… Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m here now.”

Brian took a step closer, and that seemed to be all the motivation John needed to close the rest of the distance between them, arms wrapping around Brian’s waist and head seeking out a familiar place to nuzzle into at the crook of Brian’s shoulder.

“I just don’t want to be the centre of attention,” he murmured against Brian’s neck, “And now I think if I go into school on Monday, everybody’s going to be asking about it. I won’t know what to say.”

Brian stroked one hand slowly through John’s hair – which was gratifyingly soft – and held him close. “I know it seems huge right now, but people lose interest fast. If you don’t rise to it, they’ll stop caring eventually,” he said, which sounded a little cheap even to his own ears. Brian remembered being teased for his curly hair in school, and he’d gone through a lengthy phase of straightening it, so who was he to lecture John on this stuff?

“Besides,” he pressed on, “You look great. Honestly. Maybe I don’t say it enough, because I care more about you as a person, but you’re really handsome. Sure, a few guys were laughing, I’m sure there were twice as many admiring how good you looked up there.”

John made a soft disbelieving sound, so Brian continued.

“I’m _sure_ there were, because I see people watching you up on stage... But I know they can’t have you because I got there first,” he said, punctuating the sentence with a kiss to the top of John’s head.

That prompted John to lift his head and look up at Brian with such adoring eyes that Brian really couldn’t help but kiss him properly. John kissed back with such fervour that Brian barely recognised him as the same nervous, reticent boy from a few moments ago.

He wasn’t exactly complaining though. He let John lead the kiss for a minute, guiding him over to lean against a sliver of free wall space, before pulling back just far enough to redirect his attentions. With warm lips, Brian pressed a kiss to John’s jaw – something so simple, but which made John shudder and close his eyes.

Perhaps this was moving past the clear line Brian had marked of what he would allow himself to do with John, but if it made the younger man feel better, he thought it was worth it. After letting the anticipation build for a few seconds, Brian kissed John again, this time in the spot where his pulse hammered below his jaw, drawing out a shivery exhale.

“You’re perfect,” Brian said, soft and low, followed by another kiss, “I could stare at you for hours. Sometimes, I look at you and I want you so badly I almost can’t stand it.” Between words, he continued laying down kisses, delighting in the soft little sounds they prompted from John, ‘til his path was blocked by the collar of his own coat around John’s shoulders.

Glancing up, he was struck with desire. John’s head was tipped back, lips parted where he was breathing raggedly, and just as Brian was taking the sight in, John’s eyes flicked open. There was barely a ring of colour visible around the dilated black of his pupils, and as their eyes met, John leaned in and kissed him again, hungrily.

Of course, this made perfect timing for someone to knock sharply on the door. “Are you two still in there? Come on, they’re kicking us out,” the familiar raspy voice of Roger called, muffled only a little by the apparently quite thin wooden door. It made Brian wonder just what Roger could have heard from the next room…

Still, it was probably a good thing they had been interrupted. Brian had been lost in the moment, and he really wasn’t sure what else would have stopped him going further, since John certainly hadn’t been protesting. Ending their kiss with a quick peck to John’s now slightly swollen lips, Brian pulled back, and held out a hand to help John steady himself.

The younger man still looked quite like somebody who’d just been snogged for twenty minutes, but there wasn’t much they could do about that now. As they made their way out, Brian tucked his arm around John’s shoulder, and Freddie gave the two of them a knowing look.

“In a storage room? Boys, how cliché,” he cooed, and laughed as the two of them stumbled over their words trying to deny the assumption. John laughed too, though, flustered as he looked, and that was good to see.

Roger and Freddie had been like a family to Brian for the past few years. It was a warm feeling, to see John gradually being inducted into that family. Brian felt secure in the knowledge that, whatever did happen to John on Monday, he had three people who cared for him to lean on in the aftermath. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I had a lot of fun writing this one, Hurt/Comfort is a huge weakness of mine. Any comments / kudos are greatly appreciated :)


	8. Awkward Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Brian are forced to share a bed for reasons. Brian doesn't deal with it in the best way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter went over 2k, longest one yet! Inspired by all the lovely comments you guys have left <3
> 
> I'd rate this chapter as Mature.

It had been inevitable that it would come to this.

Brian stared resolutely at the ceiling, his eyes so adjusted to the dark by this point that he could make out the cracks in the paintwork. He was trying very hard to focus on calculating the approximate length of one crack by finding an appropriate reference measurement, but three things were making that quite difficult.

The first was the sound of Roger, having noisy sex in the room next door. The second was Freddie, having equally noisy sex in the room below. The third was John – sweet, innocent John – who had checked that it was alright to stay the night after their gig a full week in advance, and for whom Roger and Freddie had paid no thought when they both decided to bring somebody home afterwards.

Next door, Roger let out a string of heated expletives, and Brian wondered just how he was angled that the words came through the wall so incredibly clearly. Obviously, him sharing with Roger and Freddie in order to make sure John had a bed to himself had been out of the question. Initially, he had attempted to lie down on the sofa, but John had refused to let Brian spend a night in horrible discomfort, while Brian had refused to let John do the same.

So here they were, sharing a bed, something Brian had sworn he wouldn’t allow to happen until John was out of school, because he knew very well how easily boundaries crumbled in this sort of context. John had initially fallen asleep curled up to Brian’s side – small mercies meant that John had been conked out well before either Freddie or Roger started to get too loud – but had rolled over in his sleep. Now, he made for a rather tantalising view, with the loose t-shirt he wore hitched up a little to show the bare flesh of his hip, and hair fanned out about him like a messy halo.

Brian groaned in frustration as a series of thuds from below, followed by what was practically a shout, grabbed his attention. Meanwhile, it seemed that the activities next door would be drawing to a close soon – Brian could hear those hitched, breathy moans from Roger that without fail indicated he was on the edge of climax. Thoughts of sex with Roger, and particularly of how sex with Roger was no longer on the table, made Brian’s mind trail to a calculation that was quick enough to do in his head…

Eighty-four days. It had officially been eighty-four days since Brian last had sex. Another quick calculation… And it would be 164 days before he could have sex again, assuming he stuck to his self-imposed restrictions on intimacy with John, and also assuming that John was even _ready_ to take that step by then. Brian didn’t like to think of himself as the sort of desperately lustful person who actively counted down how long until their next shag, but in his current situation – listening to his two best friends having rather fantastic-sounding sex, with a frustratingly persistent erection and the object of his affection less than a foot away – it was hard to push away such thoughts.

With a sigh, Brian rolled over onto his side to face John. The younger man really did look angelic in his sleep. With a hesitantly delicate touch, Brian stroked over John’s lower lip with his thumb, which didn’t seem to disturb him much. Then, on an impulse, he lowered his hand, just to stroke the tips of his fingers over John’s exposed hip. It was a light touch, but lingering, and Brian was on the verge of drawing his hand away when John moaned.

That was an exaggeration. It wasn’t really a _moan_ , more of a sleepy sigh, but Brian’s brain latched onto it and turned it into something louder, with a lilt of pleasure, and-

Abruptly, Brian sat up, pinching his own thigh to snap himself out of it. This wasn’t okay. Something felt inherently wrong about abusing John’s trust to fantasise about him while he slept.

With a groan, Brian slung his legs over the edge of the bed and got up, resigned to the idea of masturbating in their dingy bathroom so he could finally relax and get some sleep.

It was just Brian’s luck that he ran into two people he didn’t want to see en route. Both Roger and Freddie had the look of cats who’d gotten the cream, mussed and half-dressed, radiating smug auras. As they converged outside the bathroom, Roger gave a not-at-all subtle glance at the front of Brian’s trousers, opening his mouth to make a comment which Brian promptly cut off.

“You can fuck off, the both of you.”

And before they could react, he’d pushed his way into the bathroom and slammed the door shut, paying no mind to the protests of his friends.

\----

Waking up next to John turned out to be a much more pleasant experience than trying to fall asleep next to him. Brian was awoken by long fingers carding through his hair, a familiar hand which was guiltily withdrawn when Brian opened his eyes.

“No, it’s nice. Keep going,” he mumbled, gratified when John’s careful hand returned, “How long’ve you been up?”

“About an hour. I’m an early riser,” John replied, voice sounding utterly relaxed, which was nice. Brian loved performing, and he especially loved spending time with John performing, but the downside of it was that so often the younger man seemed unable to kick his nervous edge when he was around big groups of people. Even Freddie and Roger still hadn’t quite wormed their way into John’s ‘comfortable’ circle yet, as far as Brian could tell.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Brian replied, shifting and pressing up into John’s touch.

“It’s fine, I just borrowed one of your books to read,” John said, before lapsing back into comfortable silence, the two of them just enjoying each other’s company. That lasted for about five minutes before – with a clanging of pots and pans – Freddie marched by the door, loudly announcing as he went:

“Wake up, lover boys, we’re making pancakes!”

Once they were all gathered in the kitchen, it transpired that only John really knew how to make pancakes, and so he was drafted in as the cook while Brian was charged with washing up, and Freddie and Roger with ‘supervising’. It was terribly unbalanced, but Brian was quite satisfied to be bumping elbows with John as they worked in the cramped kitchen together, so he didn’t protest.

“So,” he said, as sat down to eat his first pancake, “What happened to our guests from last night?”

“Well, mine left first thing this morning, said something about a girlfriend which is just typical, I suppose. Men can be such dogs,” Freddie sighed, “And then of course Roger was cold-hearted enough to kick his out in the middle of the night.”

“He had really cold feet!” Roger protested, and Brian smirked, shaking his head.

“You two are shameless, honestly. When we have a guest over and all!” Brian teased, gesturing at John. He was in a much brighter mood this morning than he had been the previous night.

“Technically, we had guests over too,” Roger retorted with a smug look, “Besides, you can’t call _me_ shameless when _you_ were wandering around last night with a massive hard o-”

He was silenced a little too late by an elegant kick to the ribs from Freddie. Brian looked on in vague horror, because _that_ had really been something he was hoping John wouldn’t hear about. Daring to glance to his right where John sat, Brian was greeted by the sight of the younger man staring fixedly down at his plate, face flushed all the way to the tips of his ears.

It was a strange situation. Usually, Roger and Freddie had no issue throwing around crass comments, and Brian had become used to it. However, there had been an unspoken agreement when John joined to keep away from discussions of Brian’s sex life, so as not to make their newest member uncomfortable. And now, Brian realised, John probably thought Brian had been doing something horribly illicit to him while he slept. He was so horrified by the thought that he froze, not knowing what to say to fix the situation he found himself in.

“What Roger here was going to say is-“ Freddie began, but was cut off from perhaps the most unexpected source.

“I know what he was going to say,” John said, “You don’t need to… Censor yourselves around me. Honestly. I’m eighteen, it’s fine. I won’t be offended.” It would have been a relief to hear if John’s words and body language weren’t totally at odds with each other. He still looked just about ready for the ground to open up and swallow him.

Freddie pressed on and started up a new conversation, something about his course that Brian wasn’t paying attention to. He was just watching John, out of the corner of his eye, seeing how the younger man looked like he was itching the leave. Sure enough, after a minute or two had passed, John mumbled some excuse or another and quickly got up – abandoning half a pancake on his plate as he darted off to Brian’s room.

Freddie and Roger didn’t even pause in their conversation when Brian got up to follow him.

“John?” he called softly, as he turned the corner into his own bedroom. Sure enough, John was there, sat on the bed with his knees pulled up to his chest. Brian felt guilt twinge run through him at the look on John’s face – he looked so utterly uncomfortable, no doubt at the idea that Brian had been getting off to watching him sleep, or doing God knows what else.

“Look, John, I’m sorry. Roger isn’t the most tactful person, I’m sure you’ve realised that, but I promise I didn’t do anything. That’s why I left the room in the first place, because I didn’t want to be invasive, and I know I might’ve done a shoddy job of it, but I can promise it won’t happen again,” Brian said, the words rushing out and stumbling over eachother on the way. It didn’t seem to relax John at all.

“I’m not angry about it,” was all he said, which didn’t relax Brian either.

“You can be a little angry, if you want,” he offered, and that at least made John smile, just slightly.

“I’m not. I just…” John hesitated, eyes flicking to the open door behind Brian, which the older man promptly closed, “I just feel silly, because it hadn’t crossed my mind that you would be thinking about... Those sorts of things. Which is silly, I suppose everyone does. But that’s all. I’m not angry with you about anything, I know you wouldn’t…” he trailed off and made a gesture at his own body, which Brian took to mean ‘molest me in my sleep’. John really did look hopelessly embarrassed at the subject matter, which Brian could sympathise with. It had taken him a few months of knowing Roger and Freddie before he truly got used to way they talked about sex so openly.

John apparently took Brian’s lack of response from being lost in thought as a prompt to continue speaking. “Do you… Are things going too slow for you?”

“No!” Brian nearly choked on his tongue in his rush to answer, “No, no, not at all. You’ve got the wrong end of the stick, John, honestly. I want to go slow. To take our time, yeah? Go at our own pace.”

Slowly, John nodded, and Brian breathed a sigh of relief that he’d finally gotten the point across.

“I just have one more question,” John said, after a minute of contemplation. “Next time I stay over… Are you still going to sleep in Roger’s bed just to avoid me?”

“Do you still want me to?” Brian asked hesitantly, and John was quick to shake his head, “Then no, I won’t. We can share a bed. I’m sure Roger will be relieved.”

He leaned in towards John, thinking it appropriate to seal their newly made agreement with a kiss. John tasted of lemon juice and sugar, and it reminded Brian that John had only managed to eat half a pancake before The Conversation.

“Do you want to make a couple more pancakes? There was some leftover batter, and I’m sure Freddie and Rog haven’t thought to tidy it away,” he suggested. John smiled, and nodded.

Brian mused on the way back to the kitchen that this ‘taking it slow’ business wouldn’t be so difficult after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated


	9. Spaced Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's acting... strange. Brian is over-protective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long one to make up for the wait <3
> 
> CW: Accidental drug use, featuring my total lack of knowledge of how LSD works. Rated M, to be safe.

“Is it just me, or is John acting a bit _weird_?”

Just hearing his boyfriend’s name was enough to catch Brian’s attention, and he looked up from the equipment he had been in the process of packing away to face Roger.

“Weird how?” he asked with a frown, and Roger just shrugged.

“Like… Spaced out.  A bit loopy. Look, who are those guys he’s with? Do we know them?”

Brian followed Roger’s gaze to see John. He and Freddie had gone off to buy drinks shortly after they’d finished their set, which had been about fifteen minutes ago now that Brian took a moment to track the time. In the crowd, Freddie was nowhere to be seen, but John was in plain view.

John, who didn’t usually like talking to strangers, was clinging to the arm of some man Brian had never met before, doubled over laughing. That set off alarm bells. Brian had known John for almost six months now, and Brian had never seen him act that way around people he wasn’t close with, even when he was a bit tipsy.

“Keep an eye on our stuff,” was all Brian said to Roger before standing up and pushing his way through the people crowding the dive bar, making a bee-line for John. John, who perked up as soon as Brian came into his view, and wore the sweetest smile Brian had ever seen. It would have been endearing enough to distract the older man, if it didn’t also bring to his attention how very dilated John’s pupils were, and how flushed his cheeks had become.

“Oh, tell Brian your joke,” John was saying, the words and the way he said them not sounding right. It didn’t match what Brian knew of his boyfriend. “Brian, listen, it’s very funny. Are you listening? Brian?”

“Did you take something?” Brian asked sharply. John looked so completely confused at the question that Brian felt almost guilty for asking it. In that moment, though, protecting John physically had to come before protecting his feelings. “Let’s go outside. I can hear the joke another time, but we need to talk about something. Away from other people.” With that, he gave a pointed look to the strange man who now had his arm around John’s waist, steadying him. Brian wanted to rip it off.

“Are you asking me if I want to make out with you?” John asked, and it was so jarringly out of character that it cemented in Brian’s mind that something was very wrong. Either John had taken something, or he was having some kind of psychotic break, and Brian liked to think he would have noticed warning signs of the latter.

Taking the younger man by the arm, Brian gently pulled him away from the group of strangers. The man who had been practically holding John up opened his mouth, apparently to protest, but Brian didn’t let him get a word in edgewise. He was holding it back, trying to keep his cool, but he was _furious._

“If I find out you did anything to him, or if you tricked him into taking something, I won’t be calling the police, but you’ll wish I had,” he said, voice low, before guiding John away and out into the cool air of night. The street was practically deserted compared to the bar they had been in, but not completely, so Brian had to gently rebuff John’s immediate attempt to kiss him.

“You’re acting weird,” John mumbled, clearly not seeing the irony in his own words, “What’s wrong with you? You’re all… You’re really tall. When did your hair turn… colours?”

“I think we need to take you to a hospital,” Brian muttered, feeling a little panic set in. For all Freddie and Roger called him a prude, Brian had actually experimented a little with drugs. Enough to know that whatever John had taken probably wasn't just a little weed, or something equally innocent. “Do you know where Freddie went? He was meant to be sticking with you.”

John didn’t seem even slightly interested in answering. Now, he was staring intently at the wall behind Brian, pupils blown out even more than they had been a few minutes ago. Brian followed his gaze and saw nothing.

He was on the verge of hailing a cab to get them to A&E when a rather dishevelled looking Freddie burst out onto the street.

“Oh, good, Brian, you’re here,” he exclaimed. His presence was met with a stony, mutely furious look from Brian. As far as he was concerned, none of this should have happened, and it wouldn’t have if Freddie had just stuck close to John.

“Don’t get bitchy wi-“ Freddie began, but Brian cut him off.

“Don’t even start with me! You were supposed to be looking out for him, and look what’s happened!” Brian snapped, “Now please just do something useful and find out what the hell he’s taken, because he doesn’t seem to have a fucking clue what’s going on and I’m freaking out a bit here, Fred.”

Freddie looked taken aback by the tirade, but had the decency to look guilty, at least.

“Acid. It was just a bit of acid, it won’t hurt him,” Freddie explained, having the decency to look guilty now, “Meant for me, and our drinks got mixed up. It was an honest mistake, Brian. And I left him with some friends as soon as I realised, so I could fetch some water, which is presumably when you came along.”

Brian took a moment to process the information. He’d never tried LSD, but he knew a little about it from word of mouth. He certainly didn’t like what it was doing to John, who was slumped against him now, murmuring something nonsensical into Brian’s chest.

But Freddie did seem genuinely sorry. And there was a little relief there, that it was nothing more serious. That nobody had been trying to take advantage of John, at the very least, most of the danger had been in Brian’s mind.

“I’m taking him home in the van. If you and Rog don’t want to walk back, I suggest you get your stuff together in the next five minutes,” Brian said at last, voice hard-edged.

For once, Freddie didn’t argue back.

\------------------

Brian had hoped John might doze off on the journey home, but he’d had no such luck. As they arrived back home – leaving Freddie and Roger to unpack the van – John was clinging to Brian’s arm, giggling at every mundane thing they passed. The giggles had started about fifteen minutes into the drive home and were only just starting to ease off a little.

“Do you want to go to bed, John?” Brian asked, keeping his voice soft despite the frustration and anger he was still feeling. None of it was directed at John, after all. “You seemed pretty tired after the set, maybe some sleep would do you good.”

“Brian doesn’t want to sleep together yet,” John murmured, almost absent-mindedly as he stared in fascination at a damp stain on the peeling wallpaper of the entranceway. Brian decided that perhaps asking John’s opinion right now wasn’t the most constructive approach, so he gently guided him upstairs to the bedroom. To his relief, John didn’t protest. He still seemed rather out of it when they arrived in the bedroom and Brian sat him on the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry I let this happen,” Brian murmured, standing in front of John and stroking the younger man’s cheek gently. John was staring up at him, but Brian could tell he wasn’t really absorbing a word he said. He felt compelled to speak anyway. “I should have paid more attention. I’ll make it up to you, though.”

With a quick kiss to John’s forehead, Brian stepped away to grab clothes for John to sleep in, and was abruptly struck by the realisation that John probably wasn’t in the right state of mind for their usual routine, in which Brian would wait respectfully outside for John to change. Of course, the realities of being in a band meant he’d shared a dressing area with John, but Brian always looked away, even though Roger and Freddie gave him shit for it.

When he turned back around, John was sat exactly as he’d left him, staring at his own hands and flexing his fingers – clearly seeing something there that Brian couldn’t.

Clearing his throat to catch John’s attention, Brian held out the cosy jumper he’d picked out for John to sleep in. John looked at it blankly.

"Will you put this on?" Brian asked hopefully.

John looked baffled at the concept.

With a resigned sigh, Brian set the jumper down, and began to unbutton John’s shirt. If it were something at least vaguely comfortable, Brian would have just let him sleep in it, but the whole outfit had a satin finish and would probably be ruined by sleeping in it.

“You have long fingers,” John pointed out, which gave Brian some hope that maybe the hallucinations were dying down somewhat.

“Better for playing with,” he responded as he unbuttoned the final button, and gently manoeuvred John out of the shirt, slinging it over the back of a chair.

“Better for other things too, I bet,” John replied, with a lopsided smirk. Brian cursed that he’d chosen this moment to suddenly become coherent. A small part of him wondered if this was just the acid talking, or if these were the sorts of thoughts John had about him, that were held back by his filter when he was sober. That was a dangerous train of thought to ride, though.

“Arms up,” Brian instructed, rather than carry on the entirely inappropriate direction the conversation was taking. John, to Brian’s relief, obeyed, and Brian helped him put on the jumper. John’s slim figure was immediately lost in the knitted monstrosity, and Brian turned his attention further south.

He hesitated.

“I don’t suppose you’ll take those off yourself?” he asked, sounding rather desperate as he gestured at John's trousers.

“Kiss me,” was John’s reply, which was entirely unhelpful. Brian needed to do some research. Did LSD usually make people horny? Or was this just John’s personal reaction?

“Not when you’re high,” Brian replied firmly, still staring resolutely at John’s trousers. Finally, after a few long moments – during which John pressed on with his requests for a kiss – Brian decided he needed to just suck it up and do it.

With his thoughts focused on some decidedly unappealing things – nails on chalkboards, minced beef, broken guitar strings – Brian made quick work of unfastening John’s trousers, careful not to let his hands linger. Unfortunately, they were rather tight-fitting trousers, and easing them off took a bit more time than Brian liked, but soon enough they were off. He tossed them with more than a little venom over the back of a chair, before helping John into a pair of pyjama bottoms.

Somehow, John managed to look no less tempting in baggy, cotton trousers than he did in tight, satin ones, or in no trousers at all. It was frankly unfair. John was enticing without even trying, in part by virtue of his apparent unawareness that he  _was_ so tempting.

As if the clothes had provoked a change in his mood, John also suddenly looked very sleepy, barely able to hold himself up, eyelids drooping.

“Go to sleep,” Brian sighed, kissing him on the forehead, "We can talk in the morning."

John looked up at him as Brian pulled back, and he looked so lost and confused it broke Brian’s heart a little bit. John was the last person who deserved this sort of experience, and Brian wanted to throttle whoever was to blame, except the person to blame happened to be one of Brian's closest friends. How inconvenient.

Pushing those thoughts out of his head, Brian helped John lie down, rebuffing a few more attempts from the younger man to steal a kiss. He took a few minutes to quickly change out of his performing clothes, and into something comfortable to sleep in, before settling down beside John.

He’d read that it was best to keep people on their side if they were at risk of being sick in the night, and although Brian didn’t know if that was a potential result of LSD, he thought it was better safe than sorry. Besides, spooning John was hardly a chore, and it wasn’t anything they hadn’t done before. In fact, it seemed to relax the younger man considerably, and he shuffled back so he was pressed as close to Brian as possible.

“Brian,” John said softly, bringing his hand up so he could interlock his fingers with the older man's, “Nothing feels like it’s real. Really real, I mean. Even you.” His voice sounded hollow, and frightened, and all Brian could really do was hold him a little closer.

“I’m here, John,” he assured the younger man, “Not going anywhere. Just go to sleep. Things will make more sense in the morning, I promise.”

“And you won’t fly away?”

“Not even if I could.”

That strangely seemed to soothe John a little; Brian felt the muscles of his back relax and the tension ease out of him.

“Good,” John mumbled, barely audible. Then, out of the blue, “I love you.”

And with that abrupt revelation, John was out like a light.

For a while, Brian couldn’t sleep. He was still coming down from the stress of realising what had happened to John, and the worry of how John would feel in the morning, and now the added burning question of whether John’s statement had been honest, or entirely drug-fuelled. It was only after two hours or so that he finally relaxed enough to fall asleep, arms curled protectively around John.

In his dreams, John said those three words again. And again. In his dreams, Brian didn't even hesitate to say them back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a bit hesitant about posting this one, I went through about three chapter ideas that I totally scrapped before settling on it, and I figured it was best just to get something out there instead of getting really in my own head.
> 
> That being said, please comment (and kudos, if you haven't already!) with your thoughts! I'm always happy to see suggestions of what you'd like to see in future chapters too. Thank you for all of the support so far <3


	10. The L Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of John's confession last chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Christmas present to you lovely people <3
> 
> Rating for this chapter is veering into explicit for one scene, certainly mature. If you want to avoid anything of that nature, stop reading after the cut mid-chapter, and continue reading at "Then, out of the blue..."

Feet dragging, Roger trailed into the kitchen, already feeling like this would be just about the worst morning of the year. He’d had another Brian dream the previous night. Not one of the annoying sex dreams – which he could brush off as his body telling him he needed to get laid – but rather the sort of soppy, emotional dream that still clung to his thoughts like wet tissue paper the next morning. No matter how he tried to tear the thoughts from his head, messy clumps stuck behind.

That alone was bad enough, but he’d been able to hear that Brian and John were in the combined kitchen and living room from the moment he woke up. Putting off breakfast had seemed like a reasonable option for all of about twenty minutes, but Roger needed food in the morning, and something scalding to pour down his throat.

So there he was: stepping into the kitchen just in time to watch Brian pull John onto his lap, the younger man making a show of protesting, but melting immediately into the embrace. The two of them had been pretty much inseparable since the LSD Incident a few nights ago – Roger didn’t know if it was more a symptom of John’s anxiety about the whole ordeal, or Brian’s protective nature. It was sickeningly sweet, whatever the case.

Deciding he deserved to be a bit of a dick, Roger cleared his throat, and the couple had the decency to shift apart a little, John giving him a slightly embarrassed smile. It was frustrating that – as well as being amazing on the bass – John was so bloody likeable.

“You look like hell, Rog,” Brian remarked, and all Roger could focus on was the way Brian’s hand rested so naturally at the small of John’s back.

“Piss off,” he grumbled in response, and Brian just laughed. Why was he in such a good mood, when Roger felt so crap? He turned to brew himself some tea, and when he turned back, John was thankfully on the way out, saying something about needing to get changed.

It occurred to Roger that it was, in fact, a school day.

He went to sit next to Brian, elbowing him gently to get the besotted grin off of his face. Perhaps, he thought fleetingly, he could spill his tea on Brian’s lap and pretend it was an accident. That would certainly guarantee his attention turning to Roger instead of John.

Instead, he said: “What’re you in such a good mood over? Did you and John finally…?” He elaborated on his question with a rude gesture, which was hampered only slightly by the cup of tea occupying one hand.

Brian rolled his eyes.

“You’ve got a one track mind, Rog. You _know_ we’re waiting, so no, it’s not that. It’s just…” Brian hesitated, looking to Roger, and then at the open door, before lowering his voice to a whisper, “I think I’m in love. With John.”

Roger nearly dropped his tea. For a few moments, he was speechless, and in that time, Brian went from looking nervously happy to just plain nervous. Roger had to think carefully about his reply, and didn’t particularly mind leaving Brian hanging before he finally thought of a response.

“Well, I’m happy for you, Bri, obviously,” Roger said, only half-lying, “But… Don’t you think it’s a little soon? You haven’t even slept together.”

_He’s probably a shit lay,_ Roger tacked on bitterly in his head, _Everyone is, the first few times, and Brian’s definitely had better because he’s had me._ He felt guilty for those thoughts; he wouldn’t even have dreamed of sharing them with Brian.

“Sex isn’t everything,” Brian replied with a sigh, “Look. All I know is he said it to me, the other night. He was out of his head, but he said he loved me, and I realised I didn’t have any doubts about whether I felt the same. John is… He’s different to anyone else I’ve been with.”

“Gee, thanks,” Roger mumbled into his tea.

“You know what I mean, Rog. You and I were never dating, that’s different,” Brian sighed, unwittingly twisting the knife in a little deeper.

“So what? Have you told him?” Roger asked, tone coming off a touch aggressive. Brian didn’t seem to notice, though.

“Not yet. I feel like I should wait. But God, it’s killing me not knowing whether he said it because he was high, or if he said it because that’s what he’s really thinking, and he just hasn’t admitted it yet.”

Roger hesitated. In his mind, it was obvious that John loved Brian. Or at least, it was obvious that John _thought_ he loved Brian, to the extent that one could understand what being in love felt like at the tender age of eighteen. But Brian seemed to have faith in Roger’s opinions on these matters, so if he told Brian that John loved him back, then Brian would certainly tell John and watching the two of them would become even more unbearable.

Roger wasn’t proud of what he said next.

“Probably just the drugs. You’re a great guy and all, Bri, but it hasn’t been very long. And he said a lot of weird stuff that night, remember?”

Brian looked so deflated by the response that Roger almost took it back. Almost. There was a long pause in which he could have taken it back, but he didn’t.

“I s’pose,” the Brian said finally, rubbing the back of his neck and flicking his gaze away from Roger, “Yeah… Makes sense… But-“

Fortunately, Roger was saved from having to tell any more blatant lies by John re-entering the room, looking almost like a different person in his school uniform. He gave Brian such a radiant smile that Roger couldn’t believe Brian would have any doubts about John’s feelings.

“Shall we head off? I shouldn’t be late, or my dad might not let me stay at yours on a school night again,” John was saying, and Brian headed over to join him, saying a quick goodbye. From the doorway, John chimed in with a “See you tonight, Roger!”, blissfully unaware that he was being friendly to a man who had just tried to sabotage his relationship.

As soon as the two of them were gone, Roger leaned forward to bury his face in his lap, and groaned. He already knew he had to make this right, or he would be the worst friend in the world.

The only question was… how?

\------------------

John wasn’t sure how much longer he could survive this.

Brian had become increasingly creative in stretching the limits of his self-imposed ‘nothing below the belt until you’ve left school’ rule, and John was the more-than-willing victim of his experimentation. Currently, that involved lying on his back, school shirt unbuttoned so Brian could kiss along the exposed jut of his hip, just above the restrictive line of his belt.

“What are you thinking about?” Brian asked, voice huskier than usual which served to send another shiver through John’s body. He couldn’t even look at the older man, whose lips had quickly gone back to trailing a neat row of kisses along John’s lower belly. It was teasing, there was no other word for it. Positioned as he was between John’s thighs, Brian could surely see how desperately hard John was, but of course, nothing would be done about that. The rule forbade it.

Opening his mouth to reply, John just whined as Brian’s teeth scraped gently over his hip. He was going to have to tap out soon. Embarrassing as it was to have to excuse himself to the bathroom to frantically finish himself off, it would have been even more embarrassing to do so in his trousers with Brian _right there_.

“Please,” he gasped, the first coherent word he’d said in a few minutes spilling out as Brian’s thumb skimmed over his nipple, barely touching but making John’s hips jerk up desperately nonetheless.

It was silly, because John had agreed to the limits they’d set in place. It was just that when Brian got him like this, wound up and needy, it was hard not to want more.

“You’ll let me know if it’s too much, won’t you?” Brian checked, and John nodded quickly, knowing from experience that the older man wouldn’t carry on until he had confirmation. Still, Brian seemed to sense that John was having a hard time holding himself together, and pulled back a little to John’s mixed relief and dismay.

With a soft smile, Brian climbed back up so he could press their lips together, and John moaned helplessly into the kiss. He couldn’t imagine this ending. He wanted to keep going forever, to be wrapped up in Brian’s warmth, thrumming with pleasure and an emotion he was still a little nervous to name in his own head.

Then, out of the blue, Brian sat up, and John took the opportunity to catch his breath. Confusion set in, though, when Brian spoke, obviously not addressing him.

“It’s really not a good time.”

With great effort – because his whole body felt like jelly – John propped himself up on his elbows, and this time, heard Roger’s muffled voice through the door.

“Look, I know for a fact you two aren’t having sex, so unless he’s fallen asleep before ten o’clock, I don’t see why I can’t just talk to him.”

It took John’s pleasure-frazzled mind a few seconds to piece together that Roger was referring to _him._ Brian shot him an apologetic look, but John was vaguely relieved. He’d been perhaps thirty seconds away from embarrassing himself horribly, despite Brian’s efforts to slow things down.

“Just give me two minutes, Rog,” he called, flushing when he heard how strained his own voice sounded.

Brian shot him a raised eyebrow, and John just shrugged. “Must be something important, if he’s come to talk to me specifically,” he reasoned, grabbing his shirt from the bedside table and tugging it back on.

By the time John was redressed – and thankfully no longer aroused – Brian had grabbed a book and propped himself up on some pillows. He hadn’t bothered to put a shirt back on, and looked outrageously tempting, but John reminded himself that he was meant to be going to talk to Roger, and didn’t allow more than a quick peck to Brian’s cheek before he made his way to the door. He couldn’t really remember the last time Roger had initiated a one-on-one conversation with him like this, so he assumed it must be of relative importance.

As he stepped out of the bedroom, Roger – who was leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the corridor – gave him a once over and then smirked knowingly.

“What have you two been getting up to then?” he asked, and John could feel the blush creeping up to his cheeks. He quickly changed the topic.

“What did you want to talk about?”

That seemed to wipe the smile off of Roger’s face. “Uh… Right. Let’s chat in the living room. I don’t want Bri to hear,” he said, and that just made John even more curious. He followed Roger through to the living room, sitting cross-legged on the sofa beside him.

Roger looked uncharacteristically nervous. He tried about three different sitting positions before he settled, and he wasn’t making proper eye contact with John, even as he began speaking.

“So… How are things going with you and Brian?”

“Er… Good? Good, I think,” John replied, not sure if the question was relevant, or just Roger trying to make small talk.

“Yeah? Things aren’t moving too fast for you?” Roger asked, gaze still averted.

“Not really, no,” John said, casting his mind to a few minutes ago, when things had perhaps not been moving fast enough. He certainly wasn’t brave enough to ask Brian for more outside of the heat of the moment though.

Roger seemed to hesitate before he continued. “We’re friends, right, Deacy? Like, outside of just you dating my friend. We’re friends. Ee can talk about stuff. You can tell me stuff,” he said, provoking a confused look from John. When Roger saw he wasn’t getting a reply, he quickly tacked on a “Right?”

John really wasn’t sure what Roger was getting at, but he didn’t want to be rude, and he _did_ like Roger, so he nodded. That seemed to put the blond a little more at ease.

“Right. So, being the good friend I am, I was just thinking how it must be annoying that you don’t really have anybody to chat with about things with you and Brian. ‘Cause you can’t talk to Brian about it, and I reckon it’s probably not something you talk to your mates at school about, so maybe… Do you have anything you feel like sharing?”

John stared at Roger a little blankly. He had no idea where this was coming from, and really didn’t know how to respond. Things were going fine with Brian. He really didn’t feel the need to gossip about it to Roger, but he also felt bad leaving his friend hanging.

Roger persisted. “Like, if there’s any weird stuff he does, or anything that gets on your nerves, or – uh – if there’s anything you maybe want to tell him…? That you haven’t told him yet, I mean.”

It was becoming increasingly obvious that Roger was fishing for a specific answer.

“Say, for example, how would you say you felt about Brian? Do you like him, or is it – er – _more_ than that?” Roger asked, and everything suddenly clicked in John’s head. The LSD. The muddled journey home. The confession he remembered making to _somebody_ , but which he had since assumed must have gone unheard, as nobody had brought it up.

He looked at Roger vaguely horrified.

“You heard me say that I-“ John paused, lowering his voice, “- _loved_ Brian _?”_

Roger seemed strangely confused for a moment, but then nodded almost enthusiastically.

“Well, yeah, but it was obvious anyway, if it makes you feel better,” he said, and John hoped his face conveyed that that absolutely did not make him feel better.

“You can’t tell him. You haven’t told him already, have you?” John asked, voice still hushed, “It’s really soon, I know, I don’t want to make things awkward. Please don’t tell him.”

“No! No, you’ve got it all wrong,” Roger exclaimed, putting a hand on John’s shoulder and looking him dead in the eyes, “You should tell him.”

“No.”

“Listen! I know you’re close with Brian, obviously, but I’ve known him longer, so maybe I can read him a little better,” Roger pressed on, “And I know he feels the same way. Definitely. But he won’t say it, because he’s all wound up about moving too fast and pressuring you into things you aren’t ready for. So _you_ have to tell _him._ ”

The concept was still terrifying to John, but the thought that Brian felt the same way…

“You’re sure? You can definitely tell?” he asked softly, and Roger nodded.

“Cross my heart.”

John couldn’t help but smile, ducking his head to hide it from Roger.

Brian loved him. Even if he wouldn’t say it – and that was only because he cared so much about John in the first place – he felt the same way. Brian, who John could still barely believe had wanted to date him in the first place, loved him.

“So, are you going to tell him?” Roger said, breaking John out of his thoughts. John was so happy, he didn’t even pause to think about why exactly Roger was so concerned about this.

“I suppose. Not- not right now. But when it feels right, if you’re really sure he’ll be happy to hear it,” John replied, and Roger looked relieved.

“Yeah, I’m totally sure,” he said, giving John another pat on the shoulder, “Okay. Good talk. You can go back to whatever the hell I interrupted.”

John’s cheeks coloured again, but he nodded, and stood up.

“Right… Thanks, Roger.” Roger just waved a hand, as if to say it was nothing, but John continued: “You’re a good friend.”

He was too happy to notice the vaguely guilty look on Roger’s face as he turned to leave, walking back to Brian’s room with an un-squashable giddy feeling in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! And thank you for over 200 kudos total, I'm honestly quite overwhelmed (but obviously delighted) by the reception this fic has received, and have tried to incorporate a few of the requests from the comments into this chapter to show my thanks.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated. Special thanks to those of you who have been persistently commenting on almost every chapter, it really keeps me motivated to write more, and I hope that comes across in the longer / more thought-out chapters!


	11. Awkward Conversations (Round 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The topic of John singing backing vocals comes up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses more on Freddie and John's friendship than Brian/John, though there's still a good amount of that in there!
> 
> Rating is a T for this one.

“John, dear, what’s your range?”

Freddie’s voice cut through the quiet of the living room, where the four of them were spread out, variously working on homework, thesis work, and song lyrics. Brian, who had been lost deep in thought about solar flares, found his attention caught by the mention of John’s name.

“Um, a bit under four octaves on the Rickenbacker,” John replied after taking a moment to calculate in his head. Freddie frowned in confusion, then seemed to realise what miscommunication had occurred.

“Oh no, I mean your _vocal_ range. I’m just thinking of where to fit you into harmonies, you see. I know you haven’t been doing backing vocals so far but that’s just because we already had them ironed out, I wouldn’t want you to feel left out in the new songs,” Freddie clarified. It was all fairly innocuous, but Brian could feel John tense up a little where they were pressed together on the ratty sofa.

Come to think of it, Brian had never heard John sing. Not once. Not even in the shower.

“I don’t sing,” John finally replied, the statement carrying much more nervous tension than Brian thought it should have. After all, John had never claimed to be a good singer. It had never been a requirement for joining the band.

“Not even for backing vocals? Come on, Deacy, you can’t be _that_ bad,” Freddie pushed, and Brian really wished he hadn’t. He tried to shoot their lead singer a look, but Freddie had redirected his gaze to the sheet of paper he was scribbling on. “I’ll put you in for something simple and we’ll see how it goes tomorrow in rehearsal,” he decided nonchalantly, “If it’s awful, we’ll scrap it.”

“No,” John said, voice quick and sharp, “No, honestly, I don’t want to sing, Fred.”

Brian was a little surprised. He had really expected John to just leave it. It wasn’t that he was a push-over, but it was always obvious to Brian that John was conscious of his place as their newest member, and didn’t like to go too much against decisions made about band matters by the rest of them.

Freddie was obviously surprised too, but thankfully seemed to pick up on the message that this was something John felt particularly strongly about.

“Alright then,” he conceded, after a slightly awkward pause, and Brian could feel John relax again.

“Thank you. Sorry if it’s a bother I’m just… I’m really not very good. You don’t want me singing up there, believe me.”

And with that, the room descended back into quiet, though now it was less peaceful than before. A glance over his boyfriend’s shoulder told Brian that he wasn’t focusing on his work anymore, obviously distracted by whatever thoughts were running through his head and making obvious mistakes in his calculations. Unfortunately, Brian couldn’t know what John was thinking that had him so distracted.

With a sigh, he turned his attention back to his own paper. There would be a time to ask John about this, but it certainly wasn’t now. He just had to be patient.

\----------------------

“What do you mean the _whole lab?_ ”

Brian had stepped out of the living room to take a phone call, but John could clearly hear him through the thin walls. Freddie – who had initially seemed disinterested – seemed to begin paying attention as Brian’s voice crept up in volume and distress. By this point, Roger had left the living room to do God knows what.

“And it’s definitely all gone?” A pause, and a groan from Brian. “Well, are they going to extend the deadline then?” Another pause. “That’s outrageous, how can they penalise _me_ because an undergrad set the place on fire?” John was beginning to wish he could hear the other half of the conversation, but he felt he got the gist. “Yes, I understand that we still have five days, but- Yes, but- No-“ Finally, Brian sighed, seeming to admit defeat. “Right. Okay. I’m on my way down now. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Awful as he felt about it, John was a little relieved. For the past hour or so – ever since the conversation about singing – Brian had had that look about him, the one that meant he was waiting for an opportunity to get John alone so they could have a Talk about whatever Brian thought the matter was. Of course, these talks _did_ usually end up improving the situation, because Brian was a caring boyfriend and a good listener, but it didn’t stop John from getting nervous about them.

Both John and Freddie quickly pretended to look down at their work as Brian re-entered the room.

“Sorry, guys, I have to go into uni, and it’s looking like an all-nighter,” Brian said, running a hand through his hair. He already looked exhausted at the prospect of what was to come, and John immediately felt bad for his earlier feelings of relief. “John, you can stay the night if you want, or get Rog to give you a lift home in the van. Fred… Can I talk to you for a second?”

John narrowed his eyes a little as he watched Freddie – looking bemused - head out of the kitchen. He couldn’t hear whatever the two men spoke about in the corridor, but it was a suspiciously quick conversation.

When Brian came back through, he had pulled on his coat already, and gave John a quick kiss.

“Sorry to abandon you like this,” Brian murmured, followed by another brief kiss, “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” John replied, adding a joking, “I think I can survive Rog and Freddie’s company without your supervision.”

Brian chuckled at that, then – with a regretful glance at his watch – pulled away, bidding the two of them goodbye before heading out of the door again.

Freddie, with all the subtlety of a rock, planted himself on the sofa beside John as soon as the door was shut. John shot him a nervous look, and was just opening his mouth to say that he should perhaps get going, when Freddie promptly cut him off.

“How are things going with Brian, darling? I hardly ever get to speak to you without him around nosing in.”

John felt a momentary sense of déjà-vu, but shook it off.

“Things are going well, thanks,” he replied, suspecting Freddie wouldn’t be satisfied with the relatively generic answer, but he didn’t know what else to say.

“I can tell! The two of you are practically glued to eachother these days,” Freddie chuckled, “But that’s young love, isn’t it? It’s funny, really, seeing Brian get all soft when you’re around.”

John’s eyebrows raised a little at that, and he felt his cheeks start to colour.

“Really, Deacy! If I ever want a favour from him, I just have to ask it after he’s spent a couple of hours with you, and I know he’ll be in a good mood,” Freddie continued, leaning in closer to John, “And of course, Rog and I love you too, though not as much as Brian, I suspect. You know that, don’t you?”

John nodded, though if he was being honest, his heart wasn’t really in it.

“And you know that we see you as an equal member of Queen, yes? That I value your contributions and ideas just as much as Brian’s or Roger’s, or my own?”

John just stared down at his lap, feeling distinctly uncomfortable now. He knew Brian had asked Freddie to have this conversation with him, because of the conversation earlier. It surely wasn’t what Freddie actually thought, though. It was just the polite thing to say, the official line that everybody could privately acknowledge was a load of bull.

“Deacy?” Freddie prompted, and John jumped a little, pulled abruptly out of his spiralling thoughts.

“Did Brian tell you to say this?” he asked softly, not looking up to meet Freddie’s piercing eyes.

“Brian asked me if I would talk to you about the conversation from earlier, yes. But honestly, I wanted to talk about it anyway,” Freddie replied. Perhaps coming from anybody else, John would have suspected it to be a lie, but Freddie had a way about him that made him easy to trust, in John’s eyes, at least. Freddie always seemed very genuine with his friends, and John felt like he’d broken into that circle, just as Freddie was gradually entering the circle of people John felt comfortable around.

Freddie seemed to be waiting for a response, and John had to admit, it was something that had been weighing on his mind. Not always, but in quiet moments, when Brian wasn’t there to distract him with kind words and soft kisses. When he had nothing to dwell upon but his own place in the world, and more specifically, his place in Queen.

So, after a long few moments of hesitant silence, John spoke up.

“I- I haven’t been around very long. I only got an audition in the first place because of Brian,” John began, and when he was met only with an understanding look from Freddie, the metaphorical flood gates opened. “I haven’t written any songs, either. I know Roger does less song-writing too, but then he contributes more to what you and Brian write, which I haven’t done. I – I’ve been a hassle at two of our shows, because of those guys from school and that drug issue a few weeks ago. And now… I can’t even sing, when all the rest of you can sing quite well. You do so much and I just- I just play bass. And I know we don’t say it, but really, if we’re honest with ourselves, even if Queen did make it big, everybody would just see me as the boring member of the band.”

He exhaled shakily, feeling strangely empty with all of those confessions out of the way, but there was one thing still that he was clinging onto. One thing that only felt right to share, after he’d said the rest. Something he most certainly wouldn’t have shared if he was having this conversation with Brian.

“Sometimes… I think the only reason you all accept having me in the band is because Brian wants me around.”

Finally, John dared to glance up to Freddie to see his response, and was met with a rather distressed expression from the older man.

“Oh, Deacy… I had no idea you felt that way. None at all, honestly, or I would’ve talked to you sooner!” Freddie exclaimed, and before John really knew what was happening, he was being pulled into a hug. “But you must know that’s all nonsense. Roger and I aren’t shy people, we wouldn’t let Brian bully us into keeping a shitty bass player around just because he _fancied_ them.”

“But I haven’t written-“

“None of that silliness, you’ve barely had time to settle,” Freddie cut in, “And that nonsense about Roger contributing to our songs when you apparently don’t is a load of crap. I’ve seen you with Brian when he’s writing music. Just because you don’t get as hot-headed as Roger when you don’t like how a lyric sounds doesn’t mean you don’t let us know. You just have your own way of contributing to band discussions.”

“What about the singing?” John asked tentatively, “There are plenty of people out there who can play the bass _and_ sing.” It was a particularly sore spot for him, in all honesty. He’d tried to write some of his own songs before, and while he could hear them so clearly in his head, they were just ruined when he tried to sing them.

At that, Freddie pulled back from the hug, hands grasping John’s shoulders as he looked the younger man straight in the eyes.

“Deacy, I want you to listen to me,” he said, and John couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard Freddie sound so serious, “You are _perfect_ for Queen just the way you are. Did Brian ever tell you how many other bass players we went through before we found you?”

“Um,” John began, feeling his cheeks begin to burn, as he couldn’t avoid Freddie’s gaze, “He’s mentioned perhaps one or two of them…”

“Seven. There were seven,” Freddie said, “Most of them could sing well enough, half of them were fine players, but they all got kicked out because they didn’t fit in the band. Do you understand? You’re here because you’re talented, obviously, and because you make good contributions and I don’t want to hear for a second that you don’t think you’re good enough. Not one of us – not even me, and you know how fussy I am – not one of us has ever thought you were anything but a perfect fit for Queen. We wouldn’t dream of replacing you.”

To his mild horror, John could feel wetness at the corner of his eyes, which he tried to blink away to no avail.

“Tell me you understand that, Deacy. Because while I don’t believe for a second you’re as terrible a singer as you say you are, I won’t be upset or disappointed to not have you singing. I like you just as you are,” Freddie continued, hand leaving John’s shoulder to wipe away some of the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, “Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” John said, voice cracking a little on the final syllable.

“Good. Now come here and give me another hug, I won’t hear any excuses,” Freddie declared, and John laughed a little, quickly wiping his eyes again before leaning in to hug Freddie, burying his face into the older man’s shoulder.

When they pulled away from eachother, John felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. It was hard to doubt himself when somebody with so much sheer talent and charisma as Freddie believed in him. Freddie who could be so savagely honest when he felt like it. Freddie who – unlike Brian – had no reason not to be honest with John about his place in the band.

On the topic of Brian…

“Um, Fred?” John began, voice still a little wavery, “I know you were probably going to… That is… Would you mind not telling Brian about-“ he waved his hand vaguely, “-all of this?”

“Oh, darling, of course I won’t. What’s said between friends should be confidential, and it’s not as though Brian’s your bloody minder,” Freddie replied with a little laugh, “No, no. I’ll tell him we had a chat, and it’s all sorted now. That’s all that needs to be said.”

John nodded, relieved. “Thank you. I should probably go ask Roger for that lift home now.”

“Of course,” Freddie replied, “Oh, and Deacy?”

John shifted his attention back to the older man.

“If you ever want to chat about things with somebody other than Brian again, you know where I am. Don’t be a stranger.”

With a smile, and a promise he would keep the offer in mind, John ducked out of the room to collect his things and head home. The good feeling stayed with him the rest of the day, though. The feeling that, at last, he had carved out a proper place for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really didn't expect to be posting a chapter on Christmas day, but I'd mostly written this yesterday and grabbed a moment today to do some finishing touches so it could be a Christmas gift to all of you!
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated, and as ever, feel free to leave suggestions & ideas of what you'd like to see in future chapters! This chapter was inspired by a request to see a bit more of Freddie, which I had been wanting to do anyway as I have such a soft spot for a bit of Deacury - platonic or romantic. Hope you all enjoyed it!
> 
> Edit: Also, I know half of them are just me replying to y'all, but quick thanks for over 100 comments! I've never written for such a lovely and interactive fandom, it's amazing


	12. The Deacy Amp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's brings something new along to rehearsal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T-rating for this one, again. 
> 
> Disclaimer that I know very little about music equipment, so take this with a pinch of salt.

John was late to rehearsal.

It wouldn’t have been strange for Freddie or Roger – who were habitually late for reasons varying from ‘Traffic was bad’ to ‘I don’t own a working clock’ – and it would have been notable, but not totally out of the ordinary, for Brian. But for John, it was an as-yet-unheard-of phenomenon. He was fastidious when it came to band matters; considering his position as the youngest member, it was perhaps surprising that he’d quickly wormed his way into playing a leading role in managing the band’s (limited) finances, and he was certainly the most punctual of the four of them.

This was why Brian was so worried. It was out of character, and he had half a mind to run out to the van just so he could switch on the radio and find out if there was some act of God preventing John from arriving on time.

“Brian, he’s only thirty minutes late,” Roger pointed out, as if reading Brian’s mind, “Why don’t you just practice your solo and get your mind off of it?”

Roger was making a very sensible point, but Brian was a worrier when it came to John – and particularly, John’s wellbeing – and so Roger’s very sensible point didn’t put his mind at ease. In fact, nothing did until about five minutes later, when a familiar figure burst through the doors, clutching something unidentifiable under one arm and panting.

“So sorry I’m late,” John rushed out, “Completely lost track of time, I’m so sorry.” He proceeded to slump back against the wall as he caught his breath, but not before setting down the thing he was carrying with a strange amount of care.

It was wrapped in what looked like an old pillow case, and was approximately cube-shaped, but that was all Brian could determine. Besides, he was much more concerned about John, who looked rather upset to have delayed their rehearsal, even if only by thirty-five minutes.

“Don’t worry about it, we’ve still got plenty of time to rehearse,” Brian assured as he walked over, pressing a quick kiss to John’s forehead – which was sweaty, despite the mild April weather. He wondered if John had run the whole way – it certainly looked like he had. “What got you so distracted?”

“Oh, um… Well, it’s a bit of a funny story, actually,” John began, and Brian caught the momentary hesitation that flashed across his face – as if John was trying to assess whether his story was actually worth telling – but thankfully that only lasted a second. “So, I was walking home from school the other night, and I spotted some wiring in a skip that looked interesting.”

That prompted a series of mixed reactions from the rest of the band. Roger snorted, Freddie looked intrigued, and Brian just felt bemused. He supposed it was fair enough that so early in their relationship, he was still learning new things about John, but he hadn’t expected one of those things to be that John was in the habit of fishing scrap out of skips. Despite their reactions, John pressed on with his story.

“Well, it turned out to be a circuit board for an amplifier, so I just threw a little something together because I thought it would be good to have something just for practicing at home,” John continued, and Brian felt a swell of affection for the younger man. The ability to make something useful out of knick-knacks and junk was one that Brian put a lot of stock into, and it was nice to think that John shared that.

“So, do we get to see this thing you’ve made?” Freddie asked, a similarly fond look on his face to Brian’s.

“I brought it with me,” John said, unable to suppress an excited smile as he grabbed the boxy object and passed it towards Freddie, “I’ve been practicing with it myself, and I realised it had a pretty unique sound that maybe- maybe Brian could do something with. But I wanted to neaten it up before I brought it down – you know – make sure it wasn’t going to electrocute anybody or fry the rest of our set-up, so that’s why I was a bit late.”

Story complete, John finally managed to finish catching his breath, leaving the rest of them to peel away the pillow-case wrapping and reveal the small, quite home-made looking amplifier contained inside.

Of course, it was really impossible to determine if an amp was any good or not without actually trying it, so Brian moved to set it up with Red Special as Freddie chattered excitedly about how handy John was, making the younger man duck his head in embarrassment and rebuff the compliments.

Much as Brian would have liked to join in the conversation, he liked to fiddle with sound equipment nearly as much as John did, and he felt the new amp deserved a proper test. Hooking it up to Red Special, Brian gently strummed a few chords, frowning in concentration. It certainly had a different sound to it.

Brian didn’t realise how much he’d zoned out from the conversation the others were having, until John cleared his throat beside him and made him jump.

“Have you tried it with the treble booster?” he suggested, and Brian went to quickly make the adjustment, before returning to strum a few more chords.

From there, things spiralled. Adjustment after adjustment was made, as Brian and John tinkered with their new amp, trying to stretch the limits of what sounds the Red Special could produce through John’s invention.

It was only when John announced that he was going out to fetch them something to eat that Brian really focused on their surroundings again, and noticed that Roger and Freddie were gone too, and it was dark outside. Casting his mind back told him that the other two had left nearly an hour ago, deciding that they weren’t going to be able to rehearse while Brian was preoccupied with his tinkering.

He also came to the realisation that he was exhausted, so the sight of John returning a few minutes later with a paper box from the nearby chippie and two cans of Fanta was a more than welcome sight.

“This is amazing, John,” he said, finally verbalising the thought that had been forefront in his mind since he first began to realise the potential of the little box sat at his feet, “If I didn’t already know you were brilliant, I wouldn’t believe you’d made it.”

“It is quite cool, isn’t it?” John replied with a shy smile. It was nice, for once, to hear him accept a compliment rather than trying to deflect it.

“That’s an understatement,” Brian chuckled as he stood to join John on one of the half-collapsed sofas pressed against the wall of their rehearsal space, “Wait ‘til the others hear some of the stuff we’ve come up with. It’ll blow their minds.”

John just laughed, a soft, joyful sound that made Brian want to hold him and never let him go. He settled for wrapping an arm around John’s shoulders, and pressing intermittent kisses to his cheek as they shared the greasy chips John had bought.

And if they stayed in the rehearsal space a good while later than they were meant to, making out on the sofa and flagrantly violating the agreement they had made not to use the space for anything other than music practice, then Brian considered that to be nobody’s business but his and John’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I just love the story behind the Deacy amp, and so felt compelled to write this one. For anybody struggling to keep track of my slightly iffy continuity, this chapter is set in April, so approximately 6-7 months after Brian and John started dating.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! Shout-out to all those regular commenters who persistently make my day, and to the newer ones - it's so nice to know new people are catching up with the old chapters!


	13. Misfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self-control can be a tricky thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is definitely explicit. The whole chapter centres around an explicit theme, however if you're happy to read that and just want to skip the steamy stuff, then start at "It was only when he felt..."

_Two months._

Brian sucked a mark onto John’s collar bone, humming low and contented against his skin, and John’s thoughts melted into nonsensical haze for a moment before Brian’s lips left his skin.

Two months, and John would have sat his final A-level exam, and they wouldn’t have to hold back with eachother anymore. Two months was sixty days, multiply by twenty-four for the number of hours, and then subtract sixty lots of eight to account for time spent sleeping…

“You look distracted,” Brian murmured, accompanying the words with a slow drag of his tongue over John’s nipple. John bit his lip, fingers tightening at Brian’s shoulders, and shook his head.

“I’m not,” he said, flushing at how shaky his voice came out. It was Brian’s fault. For all his dedication to the ‘nothing below the belt’ rule, Bri certainly had no issue with make-out sessions that extended well over an hour, and made John so giddy with desire that he thought he might die from it.

The position they were in didn’t help. Usually, Brian would lay John down and take the lead, but today John had been feeling particularly wound up, and had pretty much thrown himself at Brian as soon as the bedroom door closed behind them. That was how they had ended up like this, John straddling Brian’s lap, hands clutching the older man’s shoulders.

It was nice, but John was quickly starting to see the pitfall of sitting on Brian’s lap like this. Usually, when things started to get particularly hot and heavy, Brian would have one hand on John’s hip, stopping him from pressing up and taking things a step further than permitted. It was frustrating, of course, but nice to be able to rely on Brian’s seemingly infinite supply of self-control.

Now, all John could only rely on his own willpower to help him resist the urge to rock his hips forward and close the hairline gap between them. And though in the moment John felt achingly, undoubtingly ready to push past the limit Brian had imposed, he also knew the limit was there for a reason, and he didn’t want to betray his boyfriend’s trust.

“You’re doing it again,” Brian huffed, sounding more amused than annoyed as he stopped the trail of kisses he was peppering down John’s sternum, his shirt having been discarded a while ago, “What’s on your mind?”

“You,” John murmured, and it wasn’t a lie. “Is it- is it okay like this?” he asked tentatively, “It’s not uncomfortable for you?” He was half-hoping Brian would say no, and roll them over back into a more familiar position.

“This is fine,” Brian replied instead, letting his hand trail down John’s spine to rest at the small of his back, “It’s nice to try something different.”

“We can… I mean, if you want… I wouldn’t mind if we tried something- something more,” John said, gesturing between them a little awkwardly. He’d said similar words to Brian before, and the offer was never taken up, but perhaps this time…

“It’s just two more months, love. Anyway, I like just doing this. It’s nice to focus on the little things, don’t you think?” Brian replied. Fortunately, John didn’t have to think of a response for the loving – but frustrating – rebuff, because Brian’s lips were on his again, kissing him so tenderly he almost felt bad for the more explicit leanings of his own thoughts.   

Of course, Brian wasn’t so innocent, and it was scarcely a minute before the kiss grew more heated, and John could have sworn Brian’s fingers were slipping lower down his back than the rule allowed. When Brian broke the kiss, and redirected his attentions to the sensitive spot just below John’s ear, it was only with great effort that John suppressed a whine.

Brian really would be the death of him. Or, at least, that godforsaken rule of his would be.

\--------

Brian couldn’t get enough of John when he was like this. He suspected that he didn’t have much longer until John tapped out and hurried off to the bathroom – which Brian still always felt a bit guilty about – so he was trying to savour the view before him. John had his head tipped back, his long hair tickling Brian’s fingers where they rested at the small of John’s back, and his eyes pressed shut as he huffed out soft little sounds of pleasure every time Brian’s lips were pressed to his skin.

The temptation to just take things a step further, to let his fingers slip a little lower, was tangible – made even more tempting by the knowledge that John wanted it, had _suggested_ it only a few minutes ago.

He quickly pushed those thoughts away, returning his lips to a mark he’d already made on John’s collarbone and smiling as he felt fingers scrabble against his shoulders. Distantly, he heard his name being spoken with some urgency, but Brian was so lost in his own thoughts that it didn’t really register as he nipped at the skin he’d marked.

It was only when he felt John tremble up against him, and heard a choked whimper, that Brian’s attention snapped back to the present. John had gone limp in his arms for a moment, but was now tensed up again, holding himself perfectly still. When Brian pulled back to look at him, the younger man looked utterly mortified.

“John…?” he ventured, still not exactly sure what had happened, until his lust-addled mind finally pieced two and two together. Well, he thought, at least John wouldn’t need to jerk off in their dingy bathroom now – though the look on John’s face said that he would much rather do just that than be stuck in the situation he was currently in.

It occurred to Brian that he really wasn’t sure what to say.

“I can – um – I can lend you some boxers to sleep in,” Brian offered a little weakly, and that certainly didn’t seem to make things any better, judging by how John looked like he was hoping for the ground to swallow him up. “Really, John, it’s not a big deal. It’s happened to me before,” he continued, not adding the accurate but likely unhelpful _‘When I was your age’_.

“I’m going to take a shower,” John mumbled after what felt like a lifetime, delicately climbing off of Brian’s lap and avoiding his gaze. Brian barely had time to reply with a faltering ‘Okay’ before John was out of the bedroom and down the hallway.

Brian buried his face in his hands and groaned. So much for reassuring, it seemed he’d only managed to make John feel worse about the whole thing. He didn’t have long to dwell on it, though.

“Knock knock,” a familiar voice chimed from the doorway, and Freddie was letting himself in before Brian could even tug on a shirt.

“You’ll never guess who I just ran into in the hall,” Freddie practically purred as he made himself comfortable on Brian’s desk chair, raising an eyebrow at Brian’s state of undress and generally dishevelled appearance, and then narrowing his eyes, “He looked rather upset. What did you do?”

“Nothing bad. Why do you even assume I did something?” Brian retorted, flopping back against the pillows with a groan, “And why were you snooping around?”

“You should be _thanking_ me, darling. Here you are, looking like you fucked up royally, and you’re just fortunate enough that I’m around to help,” Freddie replied, “So go on, tell me what you did, before I look at all this-“ he gestured to the rumpled bedsheets and to Brian, “-and draw my own conclusions.”

Brian hesitated. On the one hand, John would probably be horrified to find out that Brian had told somebody else. On the other hand, Brian desperately needed advice, and he was sure Freddie wouldn’t tell anybody else. After all, Freddie could be almost as protective of John as Brian was.

“To give the abridged version, things got a bit too… hot and heavy, I think, and John – erm – _finished_. In his trousers.” Brian paused, feeling intensely awkward, and tacked on uselessly, “I think he might be a bit embarrassed about it.”

Freddie was looking at him like he was a complete moron, which Brian didn’t feel was fully justified.

“Well, first things first, Bri, you can just say _orgasm_. You sound like an old man,” Freddie chided, “And _God,_ you’re dense.”

Brian went to protest, and Freddie didn’t give him the time to open his mouth.

“I suppose you’re still sticking to that rule, the nothing below the belt thing?”

“It’s a good rule.”

“I’m not disputing that it serves a purpose, but just take a step back for a moment, darling, and think: how do you think it makes Deacy feel?” Freddie asked, and Brian hesitated.

“…Safe?” he ventured after a moment, and Freddie snorted.

“Has he mentioned that he might like to try something more?” Freddie pressed, asking the question as if he already knew the answer. Brian nodded anyway, and Freddie rolled his eyes. “So, do you think that just maybe, it makes him feel a little _juvenile_ when you hold back so much?”

The idea, Brian had to admit, wasn’t totally outlandish.

“And then, this goes and happens,” Freddie continued, “And makes him feel even worse. There Deacy is, trying desperately to show you that he _is_ mature enough to go a step further, and he feels as though he’s shown the opposite.”

“Where are you getting all this from, Fred?” Brian asked abruptly, because it certainly didn’t sound like something Freddie could have figured out completely on the fly. Freddie just shrugged.

“Deacy and I talk. Of course, I can’t get much out of him on this particular topic, he can be awfully shy about it, but he’s quite easy to read,” he replied, “Don’t you worry about that, though. Just tell me, Bri: when John’s sat his last exam and you don’t have this silly rule in place anymore, what exactly are you intending to do? Whip out the condoms and lube when he’s not even had a hand-job yet?”

Brian flushed a little at just how forward Freddie was. He ought to have been used to it, but he wasn’t. Not to this extent.

“I hadn’t-“

“-thought that far ahead?” Freddie finished off for him, “No, I thought not. Look, Bri, you know I love you. I don’t think you wanting to take things slow is silly, I think it’s rather admirable. But Deacy’s nearly finished with school now, and he feels ready and wants to know you see him as an equal. Perhaps a bit of build-up to the main event wouldn’t be in poor taste? Certainly better than throwing him in at the deep end come July.”

Brian nodded mutely. It was good advice. Not necessarily what he wanted to hear, but that was typical of Freddie.

“Well, I should be off before you-know-who comes back. Good talking to you, Bri,” Freddie said, getting up from the chair and heading over to the door. On his way out, he glanced back over his shoulder.

“Oh, and I’ll know if you’ve taken my advice or not,” he added, then, with a wink, he was out of the door, and Brian was left to mull over what he’d said.

\---------

John decidedly didn’t want to leave the shower.

The water was starting to run cold, and he felt like an arse for using all the hot water when he’d long since cleaned himself up, but leaving the shower meant going back to Brian’s room, and that thought made his stomach sink.

Really, a cold shower would have been more useful to him twenty minutes ago, but it was too late for that now.

With a miserable little groan, John switched the water off, climbing out of the tub and grabbing the white towel he recognised as Brian’s. He hadn’t even brought the offered change of underwear with him, so he was left with the unappealing choice between putting his soiled briefs back on, or going commando in his scratchy school trousers.

Option one wasn’t really an option at all, so John quickly dried off and tugged on his trousers, stuffing his underwear in one of the pockets.

He was going to have to go back eventually. At this point, he was just putting it off, pacing in the increasingly chilly bathroom and letting his thoughts spiral. _What did Brian think of him now?_ That was the prevailing thought, the question John couldn’t stop himself from agonising over even as he finally relented and opened the bathroom door, making his way slowly and glumly through the darkened corridor and back to Brian’s bedroom. He wished he’d brought a shirt to the bathroom too.

Brian was still sat exactly where John had left him, still shirtless, though the look in his eyes was softer and less heated now. John hesitated, lingering at the doorway.

“You look freezing,” Brian commented, relieving the tension a little bit, “Come on, come over here. Do you want to borrow some comfier clothes to sleep in?”

John stepped further into the room, and nodded mutely, feeling quietly relieved when he saw the fresh pair of boxers atop the folded clothes Brian handed him. At least his discomfort didn’t need to be physical as well as emotional.

“Thanks,” John mumbled, finally finding his voice again, an waited for Brian to avert his gaze before starting to change. This wasn’t so unfamiliar – they’d both come to the conclusion a little while ago that it was silly to get changed in separate rooms when they shared a changing room at gigs.

“I think I used all the hot water,” John continued as he dressed, to fill the silence more than anything, “Sorry about that. I just… Lost track of time a bit.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Brian replied, then hesitated, before continuing, “You know, I was thinking, while you were in the shower.”

John froze with one leg halfway down the leg of his trousers. But then, he supposed it was easier to talk about it when he didn’t have to look Brian in the face.

“Oh?” he said, as if he didn’t know at all what Brian might have been thinking about. _John, I don’t think you’re ready for what we’re doing. John, I think we need to slow down. John-_ His thoughts were cut short when Brian continued at last.

“I know you mentioned it earlier, and I didn’t really listen, but I think – if you’re happy with it, and please tell me if you’re not – I think maybe it would be okay to- to loosen up a little on the rule. Maybe try a little more, if you’re ready.”

Well, that certainly hadn’t been what John was expecting.

Now finished changing, he made his way back to the bed, climbing in beside Brian, who turned back to face him. He had no idea where this sudden change of heart had come from, when John had expected exactly the opposite reaction, but he was hardly going to complain.

“That sounds good,” John replied, quite an understatement, “Why the change of heart?”

“I was just thinking, and… It made sense. I don’t think it was fair of me to be treating you like you don’t know what you’re ready for,” Brian said, dipping his head down to press a chaste kiss to John’s lips, and John felt his heart warm at the words, the worry that had been building while he showered starting to crumble away.

“I love you,” he murmured, unable to think of a more fitting reply. The words were still thrilling to say each time, but not so thrilling as hearing Brian’s response.

“I love you too.”

The only sad thing, John thought as he curled close into Brian’s embrace, was that they’d have to wait at least until tomorrow to try whatever new things Brian had in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I umm-ed and ah-ed over posting this one, but decided to just go for it. Hope you all enjoyed! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are - as always - greatly appreciated <3 You guys are so lovely, and make me so excited to post new chapters!


	14. Cornflakes and Calamities (1/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After seven months of Roger trying and failing to get over Brian, things come to a head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating for this one is a T, maybe mature if you squint. Quite a bit of foul language.
> 
> Just a short one today, folks, part one of two because I just needed to get it out there. Heads up that it's not a particularly fluffy chapter...

“I thought they weren’t s’posed to be shagging yet.”

Freddie – who was the first out of bed, for once – raised an eyebrow at Roger as he made his presence in the kitchen known with that statement. Roger didn’t particularly care that he was being a little crass for ten o’clock in the morning.

“Good morning to you too, Rog,” Freddie replied, not at all useful.

“No, seriously, did I miss something?” Roger huffed, shaking out the remnants of their last box of Cornflakes into his already heaping bowl. Let Brian and John go hungry, they bloody well deserved it.

“What I was hearing through that wall was not just snogging or whatever,” Roger continued through a mouthful of cereal, “And at ten in the fucking morning! You’d think they’d have the common decency to wait ‘til I was out of bed, at least.”

“Because I’m sure you’re always very careful to keep it down when you have someone over,” Freddie replied, an amused glint in his eye that just made Roger want to rant more.

“That’s different! I don’t go around pretending I’m not going to be having sex in that room,” he retorted, and Freddie had the nerve to laugh like it was a joke, “God, why can’t they do it at Deacy’s place?”

“I’m sure his parents would just love that,” Freddie pointed out, and Roger had to admit that his own frustration had made that little fact slip his mind. “What’s really the issue here, Rog?” Freddie pressed, “Because it certainly isn’t the noise. If it was, I’m sure _I_ would have received my fair share of complaints from you before now.”

Roger narrowed his eyes and took another mouthful of cereal in lieu of answering. Why did Freddie have to know him so well?

“You know,” Freddie continued, “You can’t blame Brian for not knowing how you feel if you refuse to tell him.”

“Wouldn’t change anything. Maybe you’ve noticed, but he’s pretty fucking close to Deacy,” Roger grumbled.

Freddie sighed, looking sympathetically at Roger, which made Roger scowl a little more. He didn’t need Freddie’s pity. He was a catch, he could have any guy – or girl - he wanted... Just not Brian.

“Well, yes, I don’t imagine Brian’s going to be throwing himself at you. But he’s a good man. He might be a little more… sensitive, if he knew,” Freddie replied, “He wouldn’t want to hurt you, Rog. Neither would Deacy, for that matter.”

It was probably good advice, but Roger didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to tell Brian. Even if John wasn’t in the picture, Roger doubted he would have wanted to tell Brian. He just wanted to go back to how things were – having semi-regular sex to satisfy his need for intimacy with the man he potentially maybe fancied a bit.

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Freddie said softly, then louder, “Morning, lads. Don’t mind Roger here, he just needs some time to mope.” Roger rolled his eyes, stoically keeping his gaze on the kitchen counter for all of about five seconds before curiosity got the better of him and he glanced up to see Brian and John walking into the kitchen.

They both looked a bit rumpled, and John wore a sappy little smile as he said good morning, his hand clasping Brian’s as if he didn’t want to be apart from the older man for even a moment. In any other circumstance, Roger would have been happy for his friend, but _fuck_ did it hurt to see Brian, looking down at John so fondly and squeezing his hand right back.

“Why Deacy, you’re practically glowing. Sleep well?” Freddie was teasing, earning a gentle elbow in the ribs from their youngest member. Roger scoffed, perhaps a little too loudly, as the sound caught the couple’s attention. Both of them were looking at him, and the bubbling jealousy in his gut was almost too much to bear.

Roger wasn’t exactly proud of what he said next.

“Surprised you couldn’t hear them, Fred, they weren’t exactly quiet.” It wasn’t playful, like Freddie’s comments. The words came out sharp, and bitter, and even as he saw the smiles fade from his friends’ faces, Roger found he had no self-preserving urge to back down.

“Careful, Rog,” Brian said, and that just goaded him on more.

“What’s wrong, _Bri_?” he sneered, standing up and stalking over to the taller man, “Not too keen on people knowing you don’t have the self-control to keep your hands off ‘til the end of the school year?” He let the words hang in the air for a moment, and then – perhaps out of frustration that he wasn’t getting a response, or perhaps just because his brain hated him, he muttered venomously: “ _Cradle robber_.”

Brian’s face twisted. He looked murderous, but there was something else in his expression that hurt far more to see: disappointment. And after a brief moment where Roger genuinely thought Brian might punch him – which he certainly deserved – the taller man stepped back, turning to Deacy. Deacy, who looked like he might cry, and who immediately averted his gaze when their eyes briefly met across the room.

“Come on, John, we don’t need to listen to this,” Brian muttered tersely, ushering his boyfriend out of the kitchen. That left just Freddie, who gave Roger a similarly disappointed – but slightly less murderous – look. Roger didn’t need the look, though. He knew he’d fucked up royally. Now that his pulse was no longer hammering in his ears, all he was left to do was replay what he’d said in his head and wonder what the hell he’d been thinking.

Muttering a few choice words under his breath, he stormed out of the kitchen and to his bedroom, burrowing himself under the covers in an effort to block out the world.

He pretended he couldn’t hear Brian comforting a shaky-sounding John next door.

~ tbc ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I won't leave you hanging too long for the next part! A lot of people in the comments (understandably) wanted some resolution for Roger, and that is definitely coming.
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think in the comments! I appreciate all the kudos and comments so far. This fic has over 300 kudos now, which is crazy to me! Thank you all so much <3


	15. Cornflakes and Calamities (2/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger has to deal with the aftermath of his earlier outburst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The (hopefully much less distressing) second part of yesterday's chapter! 
> 
> T-rated. This is very Roger-centric.

Roger didn’t crawl out of bed until much later that day, when afternoon was turning to evening and both his stomach and bladder were fiercely protesting the hours of inactive moping.

John had left – he’d heard that much over the records he was playing to drown out his sorrows – but Brian and Freddie were still in, and that presented a major risk factor. He didn’t want to see either of them - he felt enough of a git without his friends’ cold expressions reminding him of what he’d done – but the chances that they were both hidden away in their bedrooms at this time of day were pretty slim.

Still, Roger really needed to piss, and his stomach had rumbled about three times in the past minute, so he was forced to throw caution to the wind and venture out of his bedroom, hoping he wouldn’t come to regret it.

When Roger eventually made his way to the joint kitchen and living room, he was greeted by the sight of both Brian and Freddie – sat on the sofa and engaged in hushed conversation that was promptly silenced as Roger entered. Freddie gave him a disappointed look, but that wasn’t so bad as Brian, who wouldn’t look at him at all.

After a pausing at the door for a moment, Roger quickly made his way over to the cupboards. If he just grabbed enough dry food, he wouldn’t have to come back to the kitchen for another few days and he wouldn’t have to see Brian looking so-

“Well,” Freddie’s voice declared, cutting short Roger’s plans for becoming a hermit, “You two _obviously_ need to talk, so I’m going to leave you to it.”

Roger – still frozen in the middle of ransacking the cupboards - didn’t say anything, but obviously Brian was about to protest, because Freddie continued: “Yes, I know he’s been an absolute _cock_ and you don’t want anything to do with him right now, but we’ve got a gig in three days and you two need to at least be civil with eachother on stage. So, you’re going to talk this out until you can bear to be in the same room for more than two minutes. End of story.”

Suddenly, Roger wasn’t particularly hungry anymore. His stomach just felt like a swirling void of nerves as he heard the kitchen door slam behind Freddie, and then silence. Sighing, he slowly replaced the food he’d gathered into his arms, scuffing his shoes against the floor as he made his way over to the sofa.

Why wouldn’t Brian even _look_ at him?

Tentatively, he took a seat on the sofa, putting an unusual distance between himself and Brian which he felt was only appropriate given the situation.

Roger was actually quite surprised that it was Brian who spoke first.

“Is that really how you feel?” His voice was serious, and cold, but beneath that was an underlying tremor that Roger could just barely make out.

“What do you-“ he began, and Brian cut him off.

“What you said. Is that really what you think of me, and my relationship with John?” he asked, voice shaking a little as he added, “That I’m some sort of- of _pervert_? Is that what you really think?”

Roger hated that Brian even had to ask.

“Jesus, Bri, of course not,” he said, sounding about as miserable as he felt, “No, I don’t think any of that shit. You’re a good guy. I know – God – I know you’re not like that.”

“Then why the _fuck_ did you say it, Rog?” Brian snapped, and the unexpectedly harsh language and tone made Roger jump in his seat, “Because I’ve been thinking about it and I don’t know where the hell it _came_ from, unless there’s some bit of truth in it.”

Finally, Brian actually deigned to turn and look at Roger. He looked exhausted – more upset than angry now, his mouth pressed in a hard line and a feeling of betrayal shining through his eyes.

“Bri…” was all Roger managed to get out, voice sounding weak even to his own ears. Brian just watched him for a moment, expectantly, before sighing and turning away again.

“So I’m right,” he muttered, and he sounded distraught that Roger might think badly of him. His voice was wavering as he continued, and it was so unfamiliar to Roger. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard Brian sound so shaken up. “Look, whatever you think about me… You need to apologise to John. Because what you said upset him too, and that’s not fair. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

That struck Roger, finally prompting him out of the guilty silence he’d been wallowing in.

“ _You_ haven’t done anything wrong either, Bri,” he said, voice coming out far stronger than he had expected it to, “ _Fuck._ I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I didn’t- I don’t think those things. Not at all. You’re so fucking nice to John, I know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt him, anyone could see that.”

“Then why did you say it?” The words were cutting, and Roger felt he couldn’t reply to them with anything but the truth.

“Because I knew it would upset you more than anything else I could say,” Roger admitted softly. “And because I…” he faltered, because this was embarrassing, but Brian was looking at him again, expectant now, “Because I was jealous. And I had a really shitty way of showing it.” He paused, and Brian didn’t say anything, so he added what he thought would appease him: “I’ll apologise to Deacy.”

“Jealous?” Brian said at last, sounding quite genuinely confused, “I don’t understand.”

Roger really didn’t want to explain, but he felt he owed Brian that much.

“Of you and John. Or just- just John, I guess,” he replied softly, as if saying it a little quieter would make the words have less impact. He took in a shaky breath and continued. “Obviously I’ve done a shit job of showing it, but I really-“ Another deep breath. “I really like you, Bri.”

Brian had that focused look on his face now, the one that meant he was unpicking a problem in his head, looking for the best solution – usually to some band issue that Freddie and Roger were arguing about. When he spoke, it was only two words.

“Since when?”

“It probably started back when we used to fool around, back when you were single,” Roger sighed, “I don’t think I realised ‘til after John came along, though.” That was something he’d dwelled on a lot, when he was alone in bed and feeling sorry for himself. What would have happened if he’d told Brian before John was in the picture? Was that even something he wanted, if it meant John would never have had a reason to join Queen?

“So… You like me,” Brian summarised neatly, sounding a little distant. Roger nodded glumly, and then, realising Brian wasn’t looking his way, added a weak ‘Yeah’. To his dismay, he could feel tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, because this whole situation _hurt._ It hurt to confess to Brian, when he knew Brian loved somebody else. It hurt to bare his soul to somebody that was (rightfully) pissed at him. It hurt to think that this whole thing might ruin his friendship with Brian too.

“I know it doesn’t make what I said okay,” Roger said, trying to stifle the tremor in his own voice now, “And I’m not saying it as an excuse or anything. It’s just… context, I guess. And I don’t expect anything either, I know you and John are- I’m not trying to get between you two. I’ll get over it. I just thought you deserved to know and… I’m sorry, again, for being such a prick.”

Roger was just about to wipe away the traitorous tears threatening to spill down his cheeks when he felt long arms wrapping around him, and before he could even react, Brian was hugging him. It was a long time since he’d been hugged by Brian. It hadn’t happened since John came along, he knew that much. Before that, he’d never really savoured Brian’s embrace like he should have.

Not allowing himself to overthink it anymore, Roger relaxed into the hug, burying his face against Brian’s shoulder and sniffling a bit. Even now, there was a spark of jealousy at the thought that John could probably have the warm feeling of Brian’s arms around him whenever he liked, if only he said the word.

“Thank you for telling me, Rog,” Brian said, voice sounding utterly sincere, muffled as it was by Roger’s hair, “It… Well, a couple of things make a lot more sense now. And you’re right, it doesn’t make what you said okay, but- well, John will forgive you if you apologise, I’m sure. And I forgive you.”

The relief that washed over Roger at those words was so intense he couldn’t even muster up a response. Fortunately, Brian continued talking.

“You’re still one of my best friends, I don’t want to lose that,” he said, “And I know you’re a good person, really. You’ve just got terrible impulse control.”

That made Roger laugh a little, face still buried against Brian’s shoulder. “That’s what I’ve got you for,” he mumbled, and Brian laughed. It was an amazing thing to hear, when just a few hours ago Roger had been sure that he’d ruined their friendship forever.

After that, they lapsed into silence for a while, both of them needing some time to mentally mend the wounds from their earlier spat. When Roger finally felt sturdy enough to pull away from Brian’s arms, he spoke up again.

“I’m really happy for you and John, you know. You’re good for eachother,” Roger said, standing up and ruffling his hair to give it back some volume that Brian’s chin had crushed out of it, “I just need a bit of time to get over… _this._ ”

 “Thanks, Rog,” Brian replied, voice as soft as the smile now gracing his features. It made Roger’s chest ache, even now. “I’ll ask John to come over tomorrow, so you can have a chat with him too. Actually…” Seemingly reminded of something, Brian looked down at his watch, then back up at Roger apologetically, “I said I’d meet up with him in town in a bit. Do you mind…?”

“No. No, go ahead. I’m fine,” Roger said quickly, smiling back at Brian, “Go have fun. I’m- I feel a lot better now.”

“Good,” Brian said as he stood up, giving Roger a pat on the shoulder as he walked by, “Well… I’ll talk to you later, Rog. Make sure you eat something too, you haven’t been out of your room all day.”

“Will do, Bri. Have fun.”

With that, Brian was gone, leaving Roger alone with his thoughts and those frustrating feelings that hadn’t left him a moment of peace for the past seven months. Now though, although his chest still tightened a little at the thought of Brian, it didn’t sting so much. The bitterness, while not totally gone, didn’t feel like a volcano just waiting to explode out of him. The thought of talking to Deacy tomorrow strangely didn’t fill him with dread or dismay.

And when Freddie eventually poked his head around the door, asking with thinly-veiled curiosity how Roger was, he was surprised by just how honest he felt in his reply:

“I’m good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments and kudos so far! It's a really great motivator to read what you guys have to say. 
> 
> I'd hoped to have this out way earlier today, but then the fantastic John/Brian fic 'The Clinic' updated and I love it so so so much I had to go and read it, and then reread it. (Seriously, check it out if you haven't already read it)
> 
> As always, feel free to let me know of anything you'd like to see in future chapters in the comments, even if it's just something vague like 'more fluff!' (or 'more smut!', haha)


	16. Snippets from the Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How John deals with things in the aftermath of Roger's comments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First two sections are T-rated, the last is definitely explicit.
> 
> This is the longest chapter yet by like 1000 words, and more than half of that is just smut (y'all asked for it....)
> 
> Also, there's a mix of PoV shifts and time-jumps, so just to clarify, a short line of dashes indicates a PoV shift, and a long line of dashes indicates moving onto something entirely new, hope that's not too hard to keep track of!

Brian spotted John in the bustling crowd that was typical of London at this time of day before John spotted him. The younger man was pressed against a brick wall, looking like he regretted choosing this particular street corner as a meeting spot, until he turned his head a little and noticed Brian, at which point his nervous expression melted into a smile.

To say it was a relief to see John would be an understatement. Brian’s head was still trying to sort through how he was supposed to feel about Roger’s confession – which had only happened thirty minutes ago - and John was a welcome emotional anchor. He knew exactly how he felt about John.

“Do I need to pinch you?”

The voice dragged Brian out of his own mind and back into the present, where John had navigated through the crowd separating them and was looking up at him with a rather bemused expression. Perhaps Brian had been more lost in thought than he’d realised.

“You can if you want,” he replied, not even sure in his own mind if that was an innuendo or just nonsense, but John laughed anyway. It was good to see him laugh, after how upset he’d been earlier that day. He’d promised John he wouldn’t bring up the whole incident with Roger on their date, but that didn’t stop his own thoughts lingering on it.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that later,” John replied, tone playful, though he could clearly see that Brian was distracted. “If you’re not up for this right now…” he began, and Brian quickly interrupted.

“No. Sorry, I’m just a bit- It won’t happen again.” John looked sceptical at that, but didn’t make any verbal objections. “So,” Brian continued, clearing his throat, “Where did you want to go?”

\--------

The end of the evening – which had strayed well into night by this point – found Brian and John in a familiar spot.

Brian could distinctly remember sharing their first kiss here, just a few minutes’ walk from the house, with John pink-cheeked in the chill of Autumn. It was warmer now, but John’s lips felt just the same against his, and Brian had that same feeling of not wanting to let the moment end. This time, though, they weren’t disrupted by a set of angrily-thrown keys, but by the yowl of an alley cat, which made them both jump and then promptly dissolve into stifled laughter.

For a moment, Brian wondered if John remembered that first kiss just as fondly as he did.

“Do you want to stay the night?” Brian asked softly, bringing his hand up to cup John’s cheek again. He wanted to make up for being so distracted all through their date – an especially heinous offence given how rarely they actually went out on proper dates, both of them usually preferring to stay in, where they could show affection without the worry of arousing suspicion.

Although Brian had stuck to his promise thus far of not mentioning the earlier incident with Roger, he could see John’s hesitation, and he knew what was causing it, so he quickly added: “Roger and I had a chat. He’s apologised for what he said. You don’t have to worry about something like that happening again.”

John didn’t look entirely convinced, and Brian didn’t know that he could really blame him.

“I don’t think I’m really in the mood for anything- anything intimate,” John said, and Brian was pretty sure he knew why, but didn’t push it. In all honesty, he wasn’t in the mood for anything of that nature either, after the day he’d had.

“You say that like just holding you isn’t a treat in and of itself,” he murmured, seeing John’s cheeks flush even in the dark. Then, Brian felt John’s hand reaching out to grasp his own, fingers interlocking with his, and he took that as a cue to start heading back to the house.

Thankfully, they didn’t run into Roger on the way in. Brian was very happy to leave _that_ particular conversation til the morning.  
  


\----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  


John sat on the sofa, making slow progress in eating the cheese on toast Brian had so thoughtfully made for him, and tapping his fingers anxiously against the crumb-covered plate.

He really didn’t want to talk to Roger.

He hadn’t wanted to talk to Roger last night, when he and Brian had crept quietly past the blonde’s bedroom door to avoid waking him up, and he most certainly didn’t want to talk to Roger now that he knew the full story. He supposed he should at least be glad to have had some forewarning – Brian had sat him down after breakfast and explained what Roger had said to him yesterday – but even knowing what to expect didn’t really settle his nerves. John didn’t even know how he felt about the whole thing, beyond the fact that just thinking about looking Roger in the eye and talking things out made him feel jittery.

The conversation was inevitable, though. Brian had gone out to the shops – deciding the apology from Roger should be a private one – and promised to let Roger know John was ready to talk on his way out. John took issue with that term – ‘ready to talk’ – because it most certainly wasn’t how he felt.

It was bad enough to think of Roger hearing every private moment that John and Brian shared in the bedroom – knowing that he apparently had no qualms bringing the topic up over breakfast – but the fact that Roger could say such malicious things, words carefully selected to cut where Brian was most sensitive… It made John nervous. It made him think of all the things he’d told Roger in the past, and made him wonder if Roger would ever resort to using those small confessions against him.

John nearly dropped his plate when he felt somebody sit on the sofa behind him.

“Hi, John,” Roger’s familiar, raspy voice came from beside him. Glancing over, John could see the other man looked similarly uncomfortable to be having this conversation – but it was a welcome change from the bitter expression Roger had worn when John last saw him.

“Hello,” John replied after an awkward pause, realising he should probably say something back. In fact, he should probably tell Roger… “Brian told me what you two talked about last night. So… you don’t have to rehash all of that.”

“Oh. Right,” Roger mumbled, “Well… I just wanted to apologis-“

“He was really upset, you know,” John cut in, not even really sure where the sudden sharpness in his voice came from. But the more he thought about it, the more the nervousness he felt shifted to anger _._ “I know the two of you made up. But Brian spent a whole day thinking he was a horrible person because of what you said. If you- If you like him, I don’t understand why you’d want to hurt him that much. And all I can think is ‘How do I know it won’t happen again?’, because Brian cares what you think of him. He cares a lot, and it’s not fair of you to take advantage of that.”

John felt almost out of breath when he finished; he wasn’t sure he’d ever said so many words to Roger in one go. Indeed, Roger looked positively stunned, and John couldn’t deny it was a bit satisfying to see him looking rightly mollified.

“You’re right,” Roger said, after taking a moment to get over his surprise, “I was a prick. I’m really sorry, John.”

The words sounded genuine, which was almost strange, coming from Roger. John was much more used to hearing him being sarcastic, or melodramatic, or really anything but how he currently sounded.

“I don’t really know how to convince you that it won’t happen again,” Roger admitted, “But- I don’t want it to. I don’t want to hurt Brian, I-“ For a second, a pained look passed over Roger’s face, but he quickly hid it. “He’s my friend,” Roger said, in lieu of whatever he’d been about to say, “I felt like such an arse yesterday, I don’t want that to happen again. And you know, you’re my friend too. I don’t want to upset you either… And that’s not just because I think Brian might punch me if I did.”

John couldn’t help but smile a little at that. He couldn’t imagine Brian punching anybody, though he’d certainly looked close to it yesterday.

“That’s good to hear,” he said, poking absent-mindedly at his rapidly-cooling cheese on toast. “I – uh – I accept the apology too.”

There was an awkward silence then, where neither of them really seemed to know what to say, before Roger thankfully broke it.

“God, this is awkward. Do you want to play Scrabble or something? I might actually be in for a chance at winning if Fred’s not here,” Roger said, and John was almost surprised to realise he didn’t mind the idea. He wanted to get along with Roger again, after all, and he _was_ pretty proud of his own Scrabble skills.

“Okay, but you can’t use made-up words this time,” John said, fumbling under the sofa to pull out the board game.

“Hey, ‘dosh’ is a real word, everybody agreed,” Roger shot back with mock-anger.

“Everybody except the Scrabble dictionary.”

About halfway through the game, Brian came into the kitchen, obviously surprised to see Roger and John playing, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he flashed John a questioning look, and John just smiled back.

Of course, things didn’t feel totally back to normal, it would have been strange if they did. But John had the feeling that, at the very least, things would be fine soon enough.  
  


\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  


John could feel himself getting close.

He was laid back on the bed, feeling pleasantly smothered by Brian on top of him, whose lips were pressed against his and whose lovely, skilled hand was stroking John’s cock in a rhythm so steady John could have played along to it if he wasn’t so distracted.

John had sorely needed this. In the ten days since the Roger Incident, he and Brian had barely done more than kiss. It wasn’t so much that John hadn’t _wanted_ to, but rather that every time things grew more intimate, his mind wandered to thoughts of the very thin wall separating Brian and Roger’s bedrooms, and that was enough to dampen any arousal he may have been feeling. Tonight, to John’s relief, Roger had announced he was going out, and wouldn’t be back til late. He had practically pounced on Brian the second they were alone together.

“God, you’re stunning.”

Brian’s voice drew John out of his hazy thoughts, to see that the older man had pulled back a little to gaze down at him. Under any other circumstance, John would have been horribly embarrassed – probably would have tried to cover up a little – but right now he felt too drunk with pleasure to care, hips rocking up in time with Brian’s hand.

“Please,” John gasped out as Brian twisted his hand wickedly, breaking the rhythm and making John’s whole body shudder, wound tight on strings that Brian tugged at so expertly. He was so caught up in the sensation that he barely realised Brian was asking him something, only catching the end of the sentence.

“What?” John murmured, not sounding particularly articulate even to his own ears. Brian took mercy on him, loosening his hand a little around John’s cock and transitioning to long, languid strokes, making it easier for John’s mind to focus on other things.

“I said, if you come now, do you think you could go again in a little while?” Brian asked, and the question alone was enough to make John shiver with desire.

“P-probably,” he panted, keening as Brian took that as a cue to speed up his hand again. It didn’t take very long for John to finish after that, clutching desperately at Brian’s shoulders and letting out stuttering, breathy moans as Brian stroked him through his climax.

John could count the number of times Brian had made him orgasm on one hand, but he was already quite convinced that his boyfriend had the most talented hands in the world. It took him a few long moments to catch his breath, by which point he’d mostly forgotten about Brian’s question, more focused on the fact that the older man was obviously still aroused, and he wanted to do something about that just as soon as his limbs stopped feeling like jelly.

“You okay there?” Brian chuckled, looking equal parts loving and smug as he wiped his hand clean with a tissue that was promptly thrown away. It did baffle John how Brian possessed so much self-control, content to take things slow and dedicate all his attention to John when he’d been half-hard himself for the past half hour.

“Amazing,” John murmured, propping himself up on his elbows so he could kiss Brian again, “Can I return the favour?”

“You don’t have to, you know, I don’t mind if you just want-“

“I want to,” John insisted, more forward than he usually was, because this – namely, Brian’s apparent belief that he was taking advantage by wanting John to touch him – was a misconception John cared a great deal about dispelling.

“Come here then,” Brian sighed, though he was smiling as he helped John sit up, pulling him closer and kissing him soundly on the lips.

\-----------

Brian found he couldn’t stop staring at John’s face, the way his brow was furrowed sweetly in concentration as he jerked Brian off. When it came to hand-jobs, as with most other things, John was a studious perfectionist. Brian could tell what John enjoyed in bed, because as soon as roles were reversed, he would mimic those exact same moves on Brian.

John’s hand twisted on the downward stroke and Brian moaned encouragingly, using his hand at the small of John’s back to urge the younger man a little closer, and rewarding him with a few gentle kisses down his neck.

“You’re far too good at this,” he murmured against John’s ear, delighting in how it made John shiver against him. Good as John’s measured strokes felt, Brian was conscious of the fact that he’d had something else in mind to finish the night off and - unlike John - he would need more than ten minutes to recover if he orgasmed now.

Gently, he trailed his fingers down John’s stomach – groaning lowly as John quickened his pace– and palmed over the younger man’s soft prick, feeling it twitch a little in interest.

“I’m not finished yet,” John mumbled almost petulantly, though his voice wavered as Brian curled a hand around his length.

“I want to finish together,” Brian murmured by way of explanation, pressing a brief kiss to John’s lips – already beautifully pink and swollen from the kisses they’d shared earlier. “Can I try something?” he asked, smiling when John nodded, “Come a little closer then, like this. Just tell me if you don’t like it.”

Brian scooted back so he was sat up against the headboard, and then coaxed John into his lap, taking the opportunity to stare for a moment and admire John – the way his mussed-up hair bounced a little against his shoulders as he settled in close to Brian, the way his collarbone stood out, marked with a few scattered love-bites. He really was breath-taking.

“It’s rude to stare,” John mumbled, though the flush of his cheeks told Brian that he was more embarrassed than annoyed about it. Still, he kissed John apologetically, sliding his hands down to rest at the younger’s man’s hips.

“Lube?” Brian asked when he broke the kiss, and John reached over Brian’s shoulder to grab it, shifting a little in his lap as he handed it over and looking rather curious, but apparently too shy to ask what Brian had planned. Brian didn’t plan on leaving him in the dark for long though.

Once he had one hand slick with lube, the other urging John’s hips further forward, Brian reached between them to wrap his hand around both of their cocks at once. The surprised noise John made was practically a squeak, though he quickly seemed on-board with the idea, rolling his hips forward and shifting impossibly closer to Brian.

It didn’t take too long to find their rhythm, Brian matching the pace of his hand to the rocking of John’s hips, all the while relishing the soft sounds the younger man was making. Even with his face hidden against Brian’s shoulder, John was clearly audible, apparently unable to suppress the breathy little moans he made each time he thrust forward against Brian.

Of course, good things couldn’t last. Brian heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor before John seemed to, but the slam of Roger’s bedroom door was impossible to miss, and John tensed up in his arms, suddenly quiet and still.

Although John hadn’t said it aloud, Brian had guessed pretty quickly why his boyfriend hadn’t been in the mood for the past week or so. It shouldn’t have mattered. Roger certainly didn’t mind them overhearing him when he brought somebody over, but clearly John didn’t share that sentiment, and Brian wasn’t sure he could blame him.

“What’s the matter, love?” Brian asked softly, turning to press his lips to the sensitive spot beneath John’s ear, hoping that would help him loosen up a little.

“N-nothing,” John replied, voice so quiet Brian barely heard him, even pressed as close together as they were, “I just- it’s nothing.” And with that, he rocked his hips forward tentatively, breath hitching but no other sound coming out.

“Just focus on me,” Brian murmured, starting to move his hand again, “Does it feel good?”

“Mm,” John hummed, still holding back. With John so quiet, the only sound to fill the room was the wet noise of Brian’s hand stroking the both of them, and the occasional low moan from Brian. It wasn’t _bad,_ but Brian missed hearing John.

Despite the quiet, after a few more shaky thrusts, John – like Brian - seemed to be drawing close, the tell-tale quiver of his thighs accompanied by a moan that was quickly muffled against Brian’s shoulder.

“You sound beautiful when you’re like this,” Brian murmured, rubbing his thumb over the head of John’s cock and grinding his own hips forward simultaneously. The choked sob John let out at that seemed to be a surprise to them both, and Brian was on the verge of stopping to check if John was okay, when the younger man apparently read his mind.

“Don’t stop,” John panted, voice pitched up and shaky, “Please, Bri. Keep going.”

Brian didn’t need much more prompting than that. He tightened the grip of his hand a little, rolling his hips forward with a more frantic pace. All it took then was a broken moan from John, and Brian was coming, breath stuttering as he spilled over his hand. For a few moments, all he could focus on was coming down from his own climax, but it didn’t take him long to realise that John was still hard.

Brian wasn’t entirely sure what possessed him to do it, but in one fluid movement, he rolled John back so he was laid out on the duvet, and no longer able to hide his face against Brian’s shoulder.

He looked entirely debauched – his cock, flushed and shiny with lube, strained against his pale stomach, and his eyes were wet with tears that Brian immediately leaned close to kiss away.

As he closed his hand around John’s erection again, John whimpered, turning to bury his face a little against the pillow. It only took a few strokes before he finished for the second time that night - shaking and over-sensitive as Brian eased him through it – and Brian collapsed beside him afterwards, slinging one arm over John’s heaving chest.

Neither of them spoke for a couple of minutes, both breathless and exhausted. In the end, it was a crash from Roger’s room – followed by a string of expletives – that broke the silence, and Brian was a little surprised to see John start to laugh. It began quiet, but soon, John seemed barely able to contain himself.

“He’s such an arse,” John huffed after recovering from his fit of giggles, rolling over to face Brian and giving him such a sweet smile that the older man couldn’t help but return it.

“He is,” Brian agreed, reaching out to stroke John’s cheek with his clean hand, “Are you okay? You seemed a little…” he floundered for a suitable word and – unable to find one – settled for: “Upset.”

“It was just- just a bit… Overwhelming,” John replied hesitantly, quickly clarifying, “Not in a bad way. It was just a lot. It was good, though.”

“Good,” Brian sighed, glancing down at his stomach then and grimacing a bit, “Perhaps time to clean up now, though. I’ll grab a towel.” He pressed a lingering kiss to John’s lips, and John let out a contented little hum as he pulled away.

“If you see Roger out there, tell him he’s an arse,” he mumbled, and Brian couldn’t help but laugh, giving John another peck on the lips for good measure.

“Will do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! And a happy new year to all of you lovely people!
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated, as always, and so are suggestions for future content. Honestly, I had planned smut for this chapter anyway, but all the requests definitely didn't hurt my motivation to write 2000 bloody words of it :')
> 
> edit: oh also I was browsing the (sadly quiet) breaky tag on tumblr and I saw that someone had recced my fic, which rlly made my day! I might make a breaky sideblog just to fill that tag up a little...


	17. School's Out for Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day of John's final exam, but he has so much more than that on his mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E
> 
> Of course, I had to make the final chapter the longest.

“And how do you find the volume of a sphere?”

Brian’s voice sounded warm and concerned even over the tinny phone line.

“That’s on the formula sheet, Bri, I don’t need to memorise it,” John replied, smiling a little. It was sweet that Brian cared so much, really. Today was the day of John’s final exam – maths, which wasn’t actually too bad of a subject to end on – and he was currently sat at the kitchen counter, notes spread out in front of him and phone pressed to his ear as he sipped his orange juice.

“And if there’s a misprint on the formula sheet, you’ll still get the question right because you’ll know the formula for the volume of a sphere is…?” Brian pressed, and John stifled a laugh.

“Four thirds pi r cubed, happy?”

“Very.” A pause. “Are you feeling good about today?”

Honestly, John thought he would be happier to have woken up at Brian’s place, but it couldn’t be helped. These exams were actually rather important, and Brian was particularly distracting. Besides, Brian – along with the rest of the band – would be picking him up straight from his exam to make the three hour drive off to their biggest gig to date. And then after that… Well, they hadn’t exactly discussed it in any huge amount of detail, but John would officially no longer be ‘still in school’, and there was the ever-present anticipation of what _that_ meant.

“Pretty good, yeah,” John said, after Brian made a questioning sound and he realised he’d been totally lost in thought, “I’m excited for tonight, at least. You definitely packed my outfit in the van, right?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t make that mistake again,” Brian chuckled. ‘That mistake’ here referred to when they’d arrived at a venue last month ready to perform, only to realise that John’s stagewear had been left at home. Left with the choice between wearing his school uniform, or borrowing Roger’s back-up outfit, which was completely open at the front and did a rather spectacular job of showing off the marks Brian had left all over his chest, John had gone for the latter. Borrowing Freddie’s concealer in an attempt to make himself look decent had just given off the impression that he had some sort of skin discolouration; safe to say, it hadn’t been John’s favourite on-stage experience.

“Well, I ought to-“

John jumped as he heard a clattering sound on the other end of the line, what sounded like a brief scuffle, and then Freddie’s breathless voice.

“Hello John, darling, I just wanted to wish you the best of luck in your exam. Brian’s worried enough for the both of you, so you just focus on getting everything right, okay?”

“Smash it, Deacs!” Roger’s voice sounded faintly in the background, and John couldn’t help but laugh, barely managing to thank the two of them before Brian regained control of the telephone.

“Not sure if I can beat that resounding encouragement,” Brian said, and John could hear in his voice that he was smiling, “Good luck, though. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Love you.”

“You too,” John replied softly, not really able to give Brian the reply he wanted to while he sat in the kitchen, with his parents milling about nearby, “See you later.”

This exam couldn’t be over soon enough.

\----------------------------------------------

Stepping out of the school gates at just-past midday, along with a flurry of his classmates – who had quickly jumped to comparing answers as soon as the papers were collected in – John couldn’t quite place a finger on how he felt. He’d thought it would be a relief, to be free of school, but he just felt a little adrift.

And then he spotted the familiar van, parked up across the road, and that feeling dissipated, replaced by a sense of warmth as he watched Roger – sat in the driver’s seat – bickering with Freddie, who was riding shotgun. They hadn’t spotted him yet, but Brian – sat in the back – clearly had, giving John a smile and a wave.

Saying a quick goodbye to his classmates, who seemed a bit peeved that John wouldn’t share what answer he’d gotten to question four but wished him a good summer nonetheless, John crossed the road and climbed into the van.

“Oh, Deacy, you’ll settle this. Wouldn’t Roger’s hair look better if he clipped this bit off to the side, and then-“ Freddie began, before being promptly cut off by Roger. The look on Brian’s face told him this particular argument had been going for a while.

“I’m not changing it, Fred, so just drop it,” Roger said, “Anyway, you’re supposed to ask Deacy how his exam went. How’d it go?” The latter part was directed at John, and suddenly all eyes in the van were on him.

“Oh, you know, not bad. It was pretty much what I was expecting,” John replied, “No sphere questions, sorry Bri.”

“Super! Well done, we knew you’d ace it,” Freddie said, beaming and leaning back to give John an affectionate pat on the cheek, before promptly turning back and restarting his debate with Roger as the blond started up the van.

In the back, Brian reached over to give John’s hand a squeeze.

“Well done,” he said, almost drowned out by Freddie’s far louder voice, but John liked that, in a way. It meant the words were only for him. “How are you feeling?”

John squeezed Brian’s hand back. “It’s a bit of an anti-climax, I think,” he admitted, though he still smiled, “I’m excited about tonight, though. A bit tired, maybe.”

“We’ve got three hours, think you could manage to squeeze in a nap with those two going at it?” Brian asked, nodding at Freddie and John in the front. They were still bickering, but now the topic had changed to traffic laws.

Yawning a little, John nodded, shuffling over so he could lean his head on Brian’s shoulder, the warmth feeling that had already settled in his chest swelling further when Brian slipped an arm around his waist, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

John found he didn’t even mind listening to Freddie and Roger’s snapping voices as he dozed off. It was nice, to be surrounded by people who were so familiar with eachother, and to feel like he belonged in that little group.

The thought of playing in front of their biggest audience to date didn’t even phase him, knowing the other three would be there too. And the thought of what might come after, when he and Brian were alone together… Well, that could wait until after the gig.

\-----------------------------------------

“You looked perfect up there tonight.”

Brian was speaking without thinking first, something he usually tried to avoid but right now, with two slicked fingers rubbing lazy circles over John’s entrance, the younger man squirming in Brian’s lap, it was hard to use the higher functions of his brain. Besides, the words seemed to have the desired effect – he got to see John’s cheeks stained an even deeper shade of red before he promptly buried his face against Brian’s shoulder. Brian couldn’t complain; feeling John’s stuttered breathing against his skin had its own appeal.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” Brian continued, grasping at John’s thigh with his free hand and urging the younger man closer still, ‘til he could feel the wet tip of John’s cock brushing against his stomach, “That satin number really doesn’t leave much to the imagination, does it?”

“Bri,” John keened softly, sounding so innocent in stark contrast to the way he rocked his arse back against Brian’s teasing fingers. They’d done this once or twice before exams had forced John to stop coming over for a couple of weeks – Brian fingering John open ‘til he was shuddering and coming over his stomach from just a few strokes of Brian’s hand – but it had never gone further.

Tonight, Brian was distinctly aware that it might. He was equal parts excited and nervous at the prospect.

“Stop being a tease,” John huffed, pulling Brian’s attention back to the present, and making him smirk. He liked when John was more vocal about his desires, even if it didn’t seem to happen very often yet.

“Not sure what you mean, love,” Brian replied with faked nonchalance, waiting for John to start replying before sliding one finger into him, relishing the surprised moan John let out.

“You’re mean,” John mumbled against Brian’s neck once he’d regained a little composure, and Brian dropped an apologetic kiss to the top of his head.

“Let me make it up to you,” he purred. The angle was a little tricky – Brian had always had John on his back before – but he managed to nudge his finger up against John’s prostate, making the younger man jerk forward in his lap and whimper. “Feeling better?” he murmured, and the scrabble of John’s fingers against his shoulders was answer enough as Brian curled his finger again up against the same spot.

By the time Brian had three fingers rocking in and out of his arse, John had given up on trying to keep his flushed face hidden. Instead, he had his lips pressed to Brian’s, kissing him rather heatedly and only breaking away every few moments to rest their foreheads together and catch his breath. Of course, Brian couldn’t resist taking advantage of those moments where John’s mouth wasn’t preoccupied to crook his fingers up against that spot inside him, the one that made John whimper breathlessly and grind down against Brian’s fingers. It was as Brian was doing this, perhaps the fourth or fifth time, that John spoke up again.

“Don’t,” he panted softly, and Brian froze, feeling a creep of cold panic down his spine before John continued, “I want to- If you keep going, I won’t last, and I want to-“ John gave him a nervous look, like he was hoping Brian would fill in the gaps, but Brian didn’t. He needed to hear John say it, or he’d feel like he was pushing him into things before he was ready.

“You want to what?” Brian pushed, slipping his fingers out gently when John seemed to hesitate.

“We can just keep doing this, if you’re not ready. Or we can do something else,” Brian assured him, pressing a chaste kiss to John’s lips, “Whatever you want. Just say the word.”

John looked so horribly nervous at having the choice put on his shoulders that Brian was on the verge of calling it, of suggesting they stick with something safely familiar to end the night, but then he saw John’s lips moving, mumbling so quietly that Brian couldn’t make out the words even this close to him.

“What did you say?” he prompted gently, and John shifted a little, his hand sliding down from Brian’s shoulder to grasp Brian’s hand – and when Brian squeezed his hand in turn, it seemed to make John feel a little more self-assured.

“I want to- to make love… Properly,” John said, and it was just about the sweetest thing Brian had ever heard spoken aloud. It was only when John shot him a nervous, questioning look that Brian realised he’d ended up just staring rather than replying.

“We can do that,” he murmured, giving John’s hand another squeeze as he leaned forward to press their lips together again, making sure the kiss was as tender and loving as John deserved. It made Brian think of their first kiss, a memory he often found himself drawn back to. And though they’d done far more together since then, John still had the same way about him when it came to intimacy – sweet, and tentative, with an underlying playfulness just waiting to be drawn out. Brian was sure he’d never grow tired of it.

It was a little awkward from this position to shift so John was lying down, but Brian had a fair bit of practice with it by now. Really, Brian would have preferred John to be on his hands and knees, to make everything easier the first time, but John had already expressed on a few occasions that he didn’t like being turned away from Brian in bed – didn’t like the way it made him feel exposed, and the fact that he couldn’t kiss Brian in that position.

“You can still tell me if you want to stop, okay?” he reminded John, reaching for the lube that he’d tossed aside earlier.

“I know,” John replied, seeming far less nervous than he had a few moments ago, but that wasn’t so surprising to Brian. John liked _doing_ things in bed, he just tended to get nervous about discussing those activities, or looking or sounding silly during the act. Brian was still making steady progress in reassuring him that sometimes, doing something a bit embarrassing was part of the fun.

Taking his time, Brian coated his fingers in lube again – probably more than necessary, but the thought of hurting John was far worse than being a little wasteful – and lowered down to kiss John as he hooked two fingers back into him. In all honesty, he’d probably stretched John enough earlier, but he couldn’t regret repeating the process as John gasped and squirmed beneath him. He spread his legs further without Brian even having to ask as he pressed in a third finger, and soon John was making those breathless little whimpers again that meant he was getting close, aroused enough to stop worrying about how loud he was being.

“I’m not sure I’ll last very long if you keep that up,” Brian murmured against John’s ear, kissing the flushed skin of John’s neck as he withdrew his fingers. It was only half a joke. Brian usually didn’t have much of an issue with self-control, but he was already achingly hard just from watching John come undone beneath him.

“Your fault,” came John’s mumbled reply, and he sounded distracted. A quick glance up showed that John seemed rather preoccupied with staring as Brian’s hand went to his own cock. Really, he’d intended to get himself lubed up as quickly as possible, but seeing the way John seemed so entranced at the view pushed Brian to put on a bit of a show, dragging his lube-covered palm slowly up the length of his cock and letting out a low moan. He was rewarded with a soft ‘oh’ sound from John, who was still watching intently, seeming to hitch his knees up higher almost unconsciously.

“Like what you see?” Brian teased, and John almost surprised him by nodding, not seeming the least bit shy about it ‘til his gaze flicked up to meet Brian’s, and he caught his lower lip between his teeth. “Maybe I’ll give you a proper show, next time,” Brian said as he shifted closer to John again, still stroking himself slowly, “Would you like that?”

“Please, Bri,” John panted, not making it particularly clear whether it was in response to the question, or to the position they were now in, Brian’s cock nudging up against where John was so tantalisingly slick and open. Whatever the case, Brian didn’t need much further encouragement, and he rocked his hips forward a few times until the head of his cock slipped into John. His breath caught in his throat as he felt younger man around him, hot and tight despite all the time Brian had spent stretching him.

John had turned his head against the pillow, but it didn’t stop Brian from seeing the way his mouth fell open with a breathless little ‘ah’ sound as Brian ground his hips forward again.

Once he was pressed halfway into John, Brian gritted his teeth and stilled, because he felt about five seconds away from finishing and he desperately didn’t want to ruin John’s first time by doing that.

John didn’t seem to notice the real reason Brian had stopped though, too busy steadying his own breathing, fingers digging in where he was gripping Brian’s arm. It was only when he felt John’s grip relax a little, and felt that he wasn’t at risk of ending things prematurely, that Brian slid back and then thrust forward again, thighs straining a little from how careful he was being to stay gentle.

It took a few more shallow thrusts like that before John seemed to adjust to the feeling, face still turned half away from Brian and eyes shut.

“How does it feel?” Brian murmured, reaching down to wrap his still-slick hand around John’s cock, which had softened a little as Brian first started pressing into him. He was rolling his hips forward in a steadier rhythm now, letting his thrusts rock John’s cock forward into his hand.

“Not – ah – not bad. It’s just- just a lot,” John panted, groaning as Brian tightened his grasp around his cock, “That feels good.”

“You feel amazing,” Brian said, and it was an understatement, if anything. It was overwhelmingly good, and he wanted more than anything to make John feel the same way – though he knew a little patience was needed.

Sure enough, after a few minutes of gentle kisses and shallow thrusts, it seemed John was starting to find the pleasure in the sensation, making soft little noises and lifting his hips to meet Brian’s thrusts. Brian took that as an invitation to rock his hips deeper, and that seemed to do the trick. John moaned sharply, hips bucking down against Brian, his back arching. A few more deep thrusts at the same angle had John trembling, twitching around where Brian was buried inside him, his cock dripping pre-come over Brian’s hand, and it was a relief because Brian honestly wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out himself.

Keeping an eye on John for any signs that things were going too fast, Brian sped up the pace of his thrusts, finding himself too overcome with the pleasure of it all to press kisses to John’s beautifully flushed neck like he wanted to, instead simply panting against the exposed skin and tightening his grip on John’s hips. Brian’s hopes of holding off finishing any longer were shattered by a particularly wrecked moan of his name falling from John’s lips.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, hips stuttering out of their frantic rhythm as he came. Really, he had meant to pull out first, but it was too late for that. John, though, didn’t seem to mind, his bright eyes open now as he rutted into Brian’s hand a few more times before spilling over his stomach with a juddering gasp, fingers squeezing Brian’s arm hard enough to bruise.

As Brian pulled out, he felt a little bad to see John wince at the sensation, but that feeling was overtaken with one of immense fondness as he flopped down on the bed and John quickly shifted over and pressed close to him, tugging a little at Brian’s arm until he wrapped it securely around John’s waist.

“We should clean up,” Brian mumbled, ever the practical thinker, but John shook his head.

“Not yet.”

Brian didn’t have the heart to argue against that as John clung to him, head nuzzled endearingly against Brian’s chest. They stayed like that for a good few minutes, before John finally relented and allowed Brian to stand up and get a towel to wipe them down.

“How d’you feel?” he asked softly as he wiped John clean, brushing a few soft kisses along the tops of John’s thighs and making him laugh a little.

“Good. Bit sore,” John admitted, “But good.” He paused then, looking like he was going to say something, but wasn’t sure about it, before he finally added, “I really love you, Bri. You’ve been so- so kind, and patient and I don’t think anyone in the world would be as good to me as you are.”

The words caught Brian off-guard for a moment, but when he came back to himself, John was watching him with such an adoring look that he couldn’t think of anything to reply but-

“I love you too.”

And it wasn’t a particularly eloquent response to all of John’s sweet words, but it seemed to be exactly what John had wanted to hear, as he leaned down and kissed Brian softly on the lips.

In that moment, Brian couldn’t fathom how what he’d done to deserve someone like John, but he didn’t want to push his luck by overthinking it. Instead, he let himself get lost in the kiss, arms slipping once more around John’s waist. He half-hoped he’d never have to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! Thanks to everybody who left comments, kudos, and those who bookmarked and subscribed. Thank you especially to those of you who have been commenting regularly through this whole fic, you know who you are, you're angels and I love you all <3 
> 
> Although this fic is finished, I've made it part of a series, so I can still write one-shots set in this 'verse that aren't necessarily in any chronological order. So you can subscribe to the series if you'd like to read those! 
> 
> Those of you who haven't read my other fic, just an fyi that I now have a tumblr (s0meday0neday.tumblr.com) where I'll post fic updates, respond to any asks / requests for headcanons / questions about fic, and I've also posted there an outtake from this fic. It's a chapter I basically finished but didn't think fitted the direction I was taking the fic, so I cut it. 
> 
> Anyway, this is getting long, so thank you all again!! Please go out and spread the Breaky love, because this pairing is still sadly underappreciated. Bye bye for now!


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